Moths don't know they're flying into a streetlight or campfire. They're innately tuned to follow the light, the moon. But we make diversions for them, we build fires to warm ourselves, and in turn, direct the moths from their moon to their grave.

People do this too. In the process of warming oneself, we create a light which can be witnessed. When we take care of ourselves, we shine beautifully. And others may be drawn to that light, instead of the light which would bring them true happiness, and bring out their own true beauty.

Beware false prophets. Follow the true light.

Take me high-
So high up with your powder wings
Angel of dust and up,
Let me drink from your cup.

Show me the world from your height,
Intoxicate me with your wine,
And poison me with your poisons.
I love it.

Every time I fly alone,
I miss you most.
Always on the top of my tongue and
The front of my thoughts,
Always the first on mind
And first I speak.

Ask them,
Those around me,
I can't shut up about you.
I take Cristian mythology and apply every
Hyperbole and analogy withing those books
And weave it into your holiness,
Your true light.

You possess a place more pure than Eden
Within me,
And a heart more red that the fruit we indulge,
I could get lost inside of you,
I would love to get lost inside of you
Every night.

Studying your doctrines,
Learning your covenants with my finger
Across the pages,
Running my eyes, face and hands all over your tomes,
Breaking down and reassembling your information.
Study you devoutly,
Every day and every night to dedicate to worship
Through practice and through study.

You are a testament to man's virtue
And a testament to his ability to wait.
You are St. John's gift upon me,
The land behind his gates,
My Zion of knowledge and joy.

I will count my blessings,
And take it for what it is.
I love you.
I love what you've done​ for my life,
Unintentionally, too.
You've made faithful this secular man now monk,

I believe in you,
And light of the sun every morning.
The taste of my coffee, roasted every day,
My carcinogin cigarettes,
Your sweet kisses, teasing,
And the drugs I take regularly.

You've made the mundane magnificent,
And I thank you,
God, thank you.
I will never under appreciate what you've given.
My God,
My Gaia.

What you don't see is her thinking.
Sitting there with her 7-11 pizza and coffee,
She's thinking.
The root of equations and their solution.
Squaring and cubing all issues in her head.
She's always solving problems which don't exist yet,
Always dissecting problems and applying mathematics to everyone and everything.

It all comes down to molecules and their relation to each other.
Numbers in it all.
In art and love and the patterns of weather,
Everything can be predicted and solved,
One way or another...

You don't see this.
You see her shell,
And that dazed look on her face
Her dark, torn clothes,
Piercings and tattoos.

I love her.

I see this world
Of Marshall with his clean face
And white shirts,
Tattoos
BLEEDING through his sleeves
Blue and green and black.

Staring into his face,
Eyes becoming the expansive world-
In the mirror.

Bleeding razor on the sink,
Steaming water rising upward,
Still-

Marshall STARING into his expansive eyes,
Obliterating reality around him,
Slicing and cutting and tearing apart all surroundings.
Focussing on the star stuff within him.

Kim, the Sun, the warmth of each day,
The clean razor face and lotion-massaged skin,
The golden, gleaming colors of life.

Marshall staring at all of this,
Upon his sink-mirror.

Take these swift lights
Take them like cars passing
And trucks with their chains in the night.
Take these lights with you.
These sounds, they're nothing.

The light of existence has been forever brightened by you.
In a way that can't be taken by long nights
And longing sounds.

A life without eyes-
Would be brightened by what you have brought to me.

How he makes the birds sing,
I'll never know.
He turns black to blue
And makes each day new.