The face
That sweet and honest face
Makes me happy still long after I was three
He is always around me
No matter where I go or what I do
Pooh I will always love you
Then and now until this khaki coil isn’t under my feet.
Pooh,it is you,my sweet

C@rainbowchaser2020

Celestial Sodomites, decant your debaucheries carefully. Here Dionysus lies -- 1969-1969. Summer sunshine sexcapades. I have been sent by the true Khalifa, supreme placeholder, perpetual nihil to sever defunct neurological pathways and lead to the pearly gates of emotional wounding. Please, open your hearts and pray with me.

my conscience went streaming by
in the mouth of a giant king salmon
the sheer audacity in eating my fly
consumed with fresh squeezed lemon

The little boy has many good friends 

But his laughter and joy isn't where this story begins

It begins with a violent family and a tabby cat 

And a misleading welcome mat

Tears and sorrow were all he saw 

Until a man came and took him afar

Tiny and lonely the little boy grew 

As he listened and watched how the blue bird flew

Bigger and stronger the little boy would grow

As he made friends with the injured crow

Healing and beauty was taught to the boy

And this is when he received his first ever toy

The little boy got big as he wrote and read 

Watching over him was the crow he fed

After many years and many of a heartbreak 

The little boy had found one which his heart she would take 

Many years later was the little boy 

All grown up and full of joy

His beloved gave him two little boys

Which he cared for and gave many, many  toys


He watched over this little family of three 

He watches now as he will watch for eternity 

The once injured crow that the little boy made friends

His eyes he will forever lend

I don't like to read your words-

A wry smile, bittersweet.

They're too real, too mundane for a dreamer.

This, whispered to me.
What is that supposed to mean?
I was not born with wings
I am from this earth
What is that supposed to mean?

Would you rather me forget
about the blood stained teeth of an old god
the ruined smile of Grace

What is that supposed to mean?

I am not even a writer,
I am only living
and I have never once seen life
walking around without dirt in her nail beds.

The coldest night air
Seems no different than the
Space around the stars.

I’m a run-on sentence
Too much work to be payed attention