the night takes a turn
and it's no longer your friend-
holding your hair
with your head
in the toilet,
or taking you to see a movie-
the way colors can light up in the dark.
it's stars become hazy
and the hands that cradled you once
so gently,
become talons.
the night will eat you up little girl
and spit you out
into a painting abstract.
you'll be a crude cave drawing on a wall
dried blood so dark and brown
the night will have you either way
and the moon will look on
in melancholy

Love’s game
   vivid romance
   lover’s
   slow dance
Amusing billet-doux*

Amusing game
   playful kisses
   missing
   the Mrs.
Love’s billet-doux

Amusing game
   lips meet
   it is
   almost sweet
Love’s billet-doux

Love’s game
   sneaky meeting
   just a
   moment fleeting
Amusing billet-doux

If there weren't any reality,
Then there wouldn't be any way to wonder
Questioning it's truth, its very existence.
You think, therefore you are?
Your conscious ability to question, is that proof enough?
I ponder, I bask, this day now, it has passed—
Yet what can be confirmed until
We know consciousness is pure validity
Some would say the topic is mundane, over-analyzed,
Some assume there's no reason to think about it,
After all, no answer is indisputable,
And why ponder that which cannot be confirmed?
But who are we to say?
Philosophy's essence can only confuse one more,
(I'll accidentally remind myself of such, every day)
And yet in the quaking
Of the diamond-dusted dawn,
In the tremble of the night,
The apperception of it all,
Through and through, and 'round the late
Can even I, can all, including those who have died—
Entrust their might through life on grime
Of every sullen soul's demise—
Within the evening's promise of hope
Or blindly fall
Beneath it all...

Roses are red
Violets aren't blue
Can't you tell that?
Ugh I mean seriously!
Violet is it's name
VIOLET
Not Blue
That would be a rather silly name
For a flower

They say we are Different;
But how can that be true?
When all I see,
Is me and you.

Earth is but a ball of dirt,
Devoid of man's treaties;
Still, it sustains within itself
Thousands of different species.

So why by them were these
Distinct separations made?
Why were colours distinguished,
And Humanity left to fade?

What is their purpose
Of praying to God above,
When his creation of a Heart,
They condemn without Love?

They walk the same soil;
They breathe the same air;
They drink the same water,
Then why do they despair?--

It's not Faith as they call it;
It's Vile Hyprocrisy redefined,
That leaks Doubt and Angst
Into a perfectly Tolerant mind.

For they frown at our Choices,
They mock at our Bruise;
They scorn at our Differences,
But our Similarities they refuse!--

It's a matter of the mind,
That plays forth illusions;
*Differences are evasive maneuvers
Against mental intrusions!