I like to.....

to drink a cup of coffee
to listen to mellow tracks
to sit beside the window
to stare into oblivion

as I think of you,
as I watch my teardrops fall down from the sky,
as I watch them turn into floods of emotion
as I feel the cold breeze remind me your touch
as I taste coffee turn into blood
as I listen to mellow tracks become as enraged as myself
as I sit beside the window with the rain pouring on me
as I stare into nothing    


...as I think of you
    in hopes that you're thinking of me too  

these are the things I crave for on rainy days
but what I crave for the most is you

i want to bleed
let the ruby stream flow
from self inflicted wounds
rush forth with all life, zest and hope
pulsing screams into despair
velvet waves overflowing proper boundaries

i want to bleed
a river
washing out decaying debris
rotting carcasses swept away
foul orgnaic rot lifted from the land
of now remembered errors
move on, ever away to another place

i want to bleed
until the last drops fall silently
tears of mute agony upon parched land
leaving only dust, lifeless casts
unseen by all but a few
you
mindless
of the flood that once flowed
until
they too … long to bleed

denuded of cover
   she stands all alone
     without a leaf
        upon her timbered bones
           above in sombre grey skies
              an uncaring sun hides
                 winter's whipping wind
                    lashes her hide
                      there she shivers
                        for want of warm light
                          there she quivers
                            through the gelid days and nights
                              the bitters iciness ever staying
                                with its freezing vetch
                                   so cruelly parlaying
                                     the end doth call
                                       she dies
                                         she dies
                                           she dies
                                             in winter's cold pall

She is Moonshine...

Harvest moon, radiant blast across the horizon
diminishing anything near the sound of her light
taunting us with the threat of reverting to a simple, normal
part of our world if we look too late or move too close.

She is Moonshine

Full moon, raising werewolves and iconic myths
making day of the darkness and drawing
florescent strokes across every able bodied pond
waving boldly coming too in due cycle

She is Moonshine...

Shiva moon, a promise and goodbye
deadly waxing and waning of war and peace
the confidently ignored reminder of our mortality
veiled carelessly by translucent clouds

She is Moonshine...

Day time moon, pale and out of place
whimsically demanding to be seen
unafraid of the brightest sun or the bluest mood
a broad daylight

She is Moonshine...

To drink, clear, forbidden and dangerous
Intoxicating, even in small portions
Promising to burn you from throat to belly
And warm your bowels through the coldest doubts

She is Moonshine.