This one's for you,
my biggest fear.
I don't know how I'm going to
make you love me,
I've never been great
at improvisation.
I'll stand in the rain
for as long as I have to
if you just say
you will accept me.
Things would seem
a whole lot better then.
But I'm certain
nothing could please you
so I'll just have to sink
deep
beneath
the waves of the world,
before I've worn out more than I own.

A penny for the thoughts of a prat ne'er -do-well could easily garner a million dollars from the wishing well !
The riffraffs field of dreams , vividly troubled , hurried minds with selective memories of the upmost variety !                                                                ­                      Collective apparitions rendered due diligence ? Befuddled reasoning with questionable significance !
If a kite high in the sky was their imagination it would lie in the ionosphere invisible to all of us  
Incredible tales of brave armored horsemen , fighting dragons , extraterrestrial warships !                                                                ­    Lunchtime by the mountains of Mars and Venus , catching twenty winks in the Little Dipper ?                                                                ­    Riding on a comet to the Horse Nebula , hopping from rock to rock in the Asteroid Belt ?
Beware of the creative mind with their allegations , tales that could usurp the kingdoms Court Jester !
I've zero tolerance today for fools , little green men , martians and the man on the moon ?
For I've a prior commitment this late afternoon , a spot of tea with an old chum on the plains of Neptune !

twisted blue soul,

everyone says their blue for you,
not me,
not me.

they told me you were beautiful,
i can’t see,
i can’t see.

they said you had a twisted blue soul,
that can’t breathe,
that can’t bleed.

i didn’t believe those rumours,
gold.
can’t be,
can’t be.

the blue prints in the news prints shown,
that
gifted
twisted
bluest
soul,

ice cold shoulders,
bold.
why me?
*why me?

This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.