Limping on charcoal, wearing a smile.
Stuttering in the night and
staring at poison,
wearing a coat with bones for a mask.

gaze at stranded trees in highways
raided by dust and smoke.
dreams of smudged paintings, broken arrows
were stolen and sold for a dime at stores.

Soft, blue stars fell in the dusk of night
and I was stranded with half a mind,
lost,
under the city lights
that snuffed out the dreams and wishes
made under the starry skies.

Colder nights than the deserts
my lips are a shade of blue, cyan,
fingers numb with scarred knuckles
hold hands with ghosts and lie to their graves.

Six-inch bars keep the sane out.
I lie to myself that pastel conceals my eyes;
while I made red wishes
stealing coffee from tables every other night.
Outer space,
is just vacuum with a couple of stars that die. ©