My dreams are laced through Orions belt.
My anger in the spear gripped by his hand
and never leaving it.

My hopes spill from the dippers.
Whats left is stale and pooled into the pocket,
though I still visit, nights like these, just for a sip.

The bigger picture, Mrs Ursa Major takes
my heart and puts into form.
Feared but revered.
A large teddy bear.

My flaws are plaster on the face of the Moon.
My fears side? It's on the dark side
that no body will see soon.

Why so, Sirius?
Who controls when which constellation is faded?
Who knows how long that I've waited for just a glimpse of an elation, to blink
and have my star gone and left devastated?