waiting for word
from the Sun,
in a sentence of night,
which is so ruthless and told
who and what is so wrong
on this world we die on.

come down, oh, Sun.
So that I may feel your warm embrace,
so that I may enlighten the brighter reflective truth, I mirrored from your greatness, away from the dark family lies spread by self-righteous rotten eyes and ears. Holding on to modesty trying not to **** for the murdered cousin inside, all while I am painted but villian of night.

My vengeance will taste of kindness.

There's a lot of power in not doing what someone knows you are capable of.

I dreamt of you in lonely Mantua.
Outside my door as I had seen you once before.
Your aura slowly leaking through my home's walls filling the air in a loving daze- I stirred up in its steamy cloud.
Outside I went, outside I saw your smile. I thought you may have saw me shake like I was a beat mutt.
My gooey wound opened upon meeting your eyes- the love is stupidly perserverent.
Then as fast as you came,
without word, without embrace, slowly you set, oh Sun. With magnificent glory of death of day; a hot angry summer's day.
Down flights of stairs where you escaped the Moon's pull.


A dream come dead in Mantua.
Banished from the brightly sky's domain,
I light the night sky,
the nightly earth,
in turn- in steed to show those
in darkness of night there can still be light past these cyclical dying days.