“Space
The Final Frontier”
Planets, stars, the moon, the sun

Now I won’t write some cliche about how the sun dies every night to let the moon live
Or how the moon only shines because it reflects the sun's light
Or just about how awesome the sun is
and how it keeps us alive

But I will write about how beautiful a full moon is on a cold dark night
So big, you could almost touch it
Except
It is still so far away

Sometimes I see the moon
And burst into tears because
I cannot feel the moon
Only the cold chill of night

The moon is an art piece
You could call him god's masterpiece
Untouchable,
Indescribably beautiful

The moon and its power over the ocean
Controlling its tides
Sometimes strong
Sometimes weak
Always present
Its as if the moon and ocean
Have a commitment
That is really forever

The moon- a chunk of the earth
That just strayed
A little too far from home

The moon and his many phases
Yet he is still one in the same

The moon- a contradiction
Hiding away
Before showing his true face

But let me tell you a secret
This isn't about the moon
This is about my heart,
Being four thousand eight hundred and five miles from its home
A whole different country
So far out of reach
A moon, For only my eyes to see

Freud says tattoos
Are
The Manifestation
Of a
Trauma

Every point
A
Separate pain
We
Have
Suffered

It took
Two
And a
Half
Hours

To complete
The
Diary
Of my
Trauma

And half a million perforations

To convert
Those
Memories
Into something

New

And

Beautiful

To finally
Let go
Of the past

I walk along same paths everyday
I never look for what on display
Birds singing dancing away
Sun out beating it's play
I feel the warm rays
This washes my cares away.

Ive walked this  path everyday
Today my feet move with the sun's dancing  beat with  the dancing of the little Robins feet.

I take my time on this warm spring day I take it all in , it warms me within

Moving with the sun beat
I'm dancing with the little Robins feet
I Shuffle muffle with the hedgehogs snuffle,  pushing through ***** leave i just love this spring time beat
I'm dancing to the little Robins feet .

We are watching the clouds
bandage an incarnadine sky,

we are practicing our best knots,
weaving an army of tourniquets,

we are slow-dancing
barefoot on the edge
of a razor.

We are watching
a demolition derby
in the driving rain,

the smell of motor oil
mixing with gasoline,

the hard melancholy
of dying machines.

We are waltzing from room to room,
smearing our names on the floor,

we are keeping time to slow music,
bleeding out behind closed doors.