Hidden stigmatas fall from your heaven
Solidly landing as a pathway to your righteousness
Running from your broken land
Broken lamp
To provide you with silver thread no more
Centuries of torment squeal under burnt rubber
And mudslides turn to avalanches
Room for the becoming
Pens leak ink over new white blouses
Draped over chairs like makeshift tents
Next to fireplaces to read
Seclusion from enormous intruders like yourself
Dusty pills litter the night table
Subtle reminders of doom once left
Left to chance
Echoing clacks as ***** scatter everywhere
Across the green felt next to the portrait
Covered by the heavy burgundy velvet drape
Whose eyes are blind to your savage beauty
You put the bell in the jar and cried out lonesome
Too many times before
You tried to pick some mushrooms
But it’s harder than you thought.

when the sun hits the water
it hisses.
to be remembered
the moon hides
as not to be taken advantage of
crimson cratered berries
cause mercy to be begged for
by the consumer
a paradise proximity to nature
when no one is watching
a bird’s eye view of tomorrow
never changing
churning aqua
as it gently caresses the line of shore
vomiting up shells and rocks
for little hands to collect
and forget
darkness consumes the earth
as it is plunged into night
the stars are punched out of the black sky
the remains silently showering the universe
as the waves hit the sand
Goodnight.

“a puddle!” I thought while
Walking
next to the water.
Only
when I focused
With
my eyes did I think to
Myself
“oh wait, that’s a pond”

every day following,
I
walked by this pond and
Realized
one day that  
The Reason
i am always late
For
class (and for
Life
in general)
Is
stopping to see the
Beauty
everyone else passes by.

you eat like a gentleman
pinky out
chin up
while slouched in the corner of the couch
unconsciously you fold your
wrapper into a neat little square
and perfectly align it with the corner of the table
to be thrown away when you
get up.