In the end, my eyes may only close, but for what?, i suppose is the question one beholds, when emboldening to a mold, made by simpletons.

They cut it down, and where the pitch-black aisles
Of forest night had hid eternal things,            
They scaled the sky with towers and marble piles    
To make a city for their revellings.                
                                                                
White and amazing to the lands around              
That wondrous wealth of domes and turrets rose;    
Crystal and ivory, sublimely crowned                
With pinnacles that bore unmelting snows.          
                                                                
And through its halls the pipe and sistrum rang,    
While wine and riot brought their scarlet stains;  
Never a voice of elder marvels sang,                
Nor any eye called up the hills and plains.        
                                                                
Thus down the years, till on one purple night      
A drunken minstrel in his careless verse            
Spoke the vile words that should not see the light,
And stirred the shadows of an ancient curse.        
                                                                
Forests may fall, but not the dusk they shield;    
So on the spot where that proud city stood,        
The shuddering dawn no single stone revealed,      
But fled the blackness of a primal wood.

She kissed me like
She
Kept
Dropping
Her
Keys.
She looked like paper,
But smelled of smoke
And had maps
Tattooed down her arms.
They were her roads,
Not meant for others.
I waited on the porch,
Knowing all paths led back,
Eventually.

A poem—
is just one more
scrap of paper
that has sailed off the table
in a bottle
with a cry for help.

What is it
that makes a poem,
a poem?
the rhyme?
the syntax?
the counting of syllables?
Or the way it falls upon you
like a cool breeze on a warm day
refreshing the soul

You're living out the married life
You're barbie
You have achieved marriage
And now everybody needs to make way for you dear
You still have that after marriage glow
That shine
Or maybe its the tan from your honeymoon
And you're wearing beautiful diamond earrings,
Recycled from your wedding
You are still the star of the show
You are still the only one in the room
You have achieved marriage...
Applaud, everybody  
Your husband? Oh he's irrelevant
Just a pixel in the corner of your beautiful life
Barbie...
Now you will need to learn the ways of the world
You can still enjoy your day
Or your week
Or your month
Whatever it is
Cause you know it will soon end
And so you parade but really just pretend.
Your mind is smarter than you
She knows this won't last
And one day you're going to sit on the couch in your trailer park
And yell at the kids
And burn in the sun
And look at the skin marks, the bruises
Your husband left you when he ***** you last night
And you will sit in the sun
And wait for him
And that picket fence you once dreamed of
Is now a fiction novel in your mind
It doesn't exist, it never has, it never will
Not now, not here, in your house
And nowhere else,
You know this

But parade now little girl
While you still can
Find yourself a rich man
Because you know
when you are old
You will no longer have a purpose
And nobody will want you, so they say
You will know too much about the world
And you wouldn't want to satisfy the rich men like you did before
Because you would know all too well
What it feels like to be his wife
Back home with the kids
Back to the trailer
Playing same sad song that she danced to on her wedding night
You know what its going to feel like when your skin starts falling off your bones like the draped curtains you once wanted
You know that day will come dear
But at least you have achieved marriage
Applaud, everybody...
Please...