Come the auroras and infinite landscapes –
     Tangents wrought outright constants,
     Parallels perched perpendicular outrights,

          So to call your ellipse,
          When the orbit’s outstretched
          Landing meetings where we’d at least
          Learn to alter tomorrow.

It’s stellar silly, and paths primordial,
     Leaving my layovers for the trials
     And abandoned, the moon’s to forever follow you;

          So to composed and formulae proofed
          Come the time you mother said,
          "He’s just a coma
          And dust best left forgotten."

Quit draggin’ me to space baby.

She signs in the
Rain
So that I may see –
Drizzled words, despots and
Defiance, never defeat.

     And

She cries in the
Rain
So that I may never see –
What could never be cured, be
Culled; our calamity.

     And

I walk on in the
Rain
So that I may never learn how to –
Fix, never learn to forgive,
Most certainly, to forget.

     And

It’s just that simple in the
Rain,
Sign, cry or walk –
We become disposable,
And like chalk on sidewalks,

          We all wash away.

The neon green frog leaps
Unto it’s last bastion of
Sludge.

He thought it was water,
But I know full well
A ******’s been administered.

So ushers in, the acrid scent of
A life wrought nothing more than
It’s surrounding pestilence;

A chaos concocted,
And alchemy rendered man;
For we’ll break this world,

But at ends, the world will hold us,
For our crimes and
For our contempt.

I died the night my son became,
Come his cry,
And my promises wept;

     For the whiskey bottle’d pass,
     And now over one empty seat.

I died the night my son became,
Come his grin,
And a mother now exhausted;

     Held was her hand, held was his,
     Before the brothers who now hold spades.

I’d earn life the night my son became,
Come his whimper,
And our eternity now in wait;

     Such neon! Were the hours, so howl,
     Would and could –

          Minus I and newest day we’d become.

Escapades avoid but the stars persist
When I saunter below the pale elm;
“That” pale elm with –
Whiskey in one hand, “wanting” reached the other.

We could drive this device every night,
And every night we nearly did,
Come every shot, every smirk, each and every –
Shooting star; wishes for naught, dreamt even deeper.

So the perfume would task, talk and mask
The other who could never be you
And therein lays the tale to the tree –
Our elm, “That pale elm where we’d learned,

We’d loved and at ends, opted to part ways.

I blow dust off the book long forgotten;
It sprinkles like the stuff of faeries,
Gold and glittered across a mid-day sun,
A fraction of which allowed,
Through the only portal to me,
My one and only window.

The stars could twinkle somewhere south,
But I ply parallel a pale blue sky,
The trees, the birds, the oak and feather,
Simplicities from which I draw my breath.

It’s when my right eye twitches,
Ever so slightly, that this moment becomes
Ruined, reality and further ruined
By the projection of dead cells and mucus,
My reaction to the mites and memories within.

Soon after, tears from my left eye soothe
Parchment when empty entries persist,
And not from the moment I’ve found,
But upon the book that I’ve unearthed,
A tether yielding the child, “unworthy,”
And a life best to the orphaned,
Mothered by only the winds.

Thus I become the seconds where
The dust has since disappeared,
Moons offer placated grins,
And the magic’s all but exposed too,
Much like the my earlier sunlight –

Jokes behind omnipresent clouds, and so,
I slap the hand that yielded this treasure
And toss the jewels to the wolves below.
Leaving time, and myself, once more and
In ritual, to be forgotten.

I wish to live, but in turn, learn to die.
When she longs to laugh, and somehow,

I cry –

So brewed the complacent,
Floating-waking dreams,
Withering with the wind,
And against it my screams.