We're all ants in our little farm
Rotated by the axis of the galaxy;
Our grip is impeccable no matter the angle
Hoping to hold on infinitely
To the small part of existence we are
So maybe the toddler holding us
Can remember how big he is
Watching his ant farm of humans.

Hail, Nero,
Friend of Piso;
Welcome to the villa

Agrippina at Mar-a-Lago
Ivanka in her tower
A Melania apologia.

Left we are all stumped
Under water and in ruins;
Unfortunately *******.

one: i love the sun and light and the smell of dewy grass. i've lost my taste for the dark.
two: my love for the darkness has turned into but a simple appreciation for i cannot love something where i know monsters lurk.
three: you are one of those lurking monsters.
four: i'd rather get high than hear you speak. the burn of the smoke as it chases and then caresses my lungs and the heavy exhale that follows is the only conversation i need because drug consumption is more important to me than my life being consumed by you.
five: i love myself now.
six: i do not need danger like i did when i was a juvenile. danger is an art i have never perfected.
seven: you never loved me.
eight: i learned long ago that the purple tulips you planted under my skin were not your way of saying i love you but they were instead your way of proving your dominance.
nine: i do not like being dominated.
five: i love myself now.
five: i love myself now.
five: i love myself now.
seven: you never loved me.
ten: you lurk in the shadows in my room. even though i do not want to be with you now you stay with me but that's not any different considering you never cared what i wanted.
five: i love myself now.

Sad...
A wind, without a kite
A kid, who does not play
A pond, without a fish

Unacceptable...
A circus, without a clown
A lawn, that is not green
Banks, that don’t give loans

Rare,
A bird, that is not shy
A Guy, who sheds a tear
A marriage, without a fight

Hard to believe...
A writer, who always writes
A cat, that does not scratch
Grandmas, who rarely knit

Unheard of...
A scientists, who never asks
A cook, despising spice
Lawyers, who tell the truth

Creepy...
A night, that is not dark
A bat, that loves the light
Winter, without the cold

Fake,
Flowers, that never fade
Snow, that does not melt
A waitress, who always smiles

Impossible...
A poet, who does not feel
A heart, that does not long,
A lover’s eye...
                        ...that sleeps the night.

Flying high above the clouds
Just to set out your shroud
Trapped inside with nowhere to go
But suddenly, the plane has gone slow

Skyrocketing to the earth
You wonder if it’s worth
It to die and to never be found

Watching you fly in the air
Plummeting to the ground and you want to help
But you have to stay strapped to your chair
You can hear a dog yelp
From off in the distance
You know there is no more resistance

You know that it is over so you give up the fight
You don’t want to die like a knight
So I decided to write
This poem about your flight
the flight that changed your life
and mine
but not for the better.