the protons and the motions screaming through the air
against black backdrops, drop emotions off
in small care packages containing

fascinating sights contained in tiny bolts of light those that cause us to jump to catch it in our hands
and stuff it in our bags before it longs for the air again
this my friends
is pure

   energy

there's something about the lights that make every moment last forever
everyone a shoulder away you've known an eternity and you want to dance with them
and never sever grasped hands with them
their faces shine in ways you never could have imagined

it's the lights

but forever always ends and darkness brightens along with it
night gives way to day and you must see them in a new shine or they fade away
their footsteps move to a new rhythm, and follow no beat anymore
but the question is can you still move to the path that they walk in?

light is never a given, it's always chance
a lance thrown into the abyss
will always persist as a lance even if you can't see it
it will be illuminated again

Under the honeycrisp branches
I'm watching the dusk die.
The ore *******
of a glassy sphinx
are silvering the fall,
her wingy myth
is mounting the sky,
is smiling at me
as she passes by.
And I look at her, look at her
scanning her magical waltz
with desperate eyes,
while thinking, in a nocturne,
how unreachable
it's her tide.

High in the pearly tree
a crimson robin
is waving good bye.
~Hildegarda Ares

Caffeine and tobacco, and the occasional puff of marijuana, thats how we do it right.
The lack of love is leaving us lonely and we lie about in vain,
Not sure of what next high is nigh, or if our nights are purely as selfish and ***** as we made them to be,
We didn't know what was next,
We tried to study for a test we knew we were going to fail,
And we had *** maybe three or four times last wednesday,
Except I can't tell when I will ever be able to see him again,
Life is spinning, or is that just me,
I don't know whats up or down, or even where to go next,
I hope that real life isn't as hopeless,
**** it,
I don't care,
This ain't a poem, just a sigh,
I breathed in again some pointless oxygen,
And exhale out the words that make no sense,
An ache of broken dreams and ancient histories,
Of how my life is so **** far from ever being perfect,
I'll always be so fat and dreary,
And  I can never get a guy to truly like me more then just my face,
Please, oh how i wish I could put them in their place,
Quick I need an i.v. to **** out this poison I put inside to hide the sorry facts that I'm alive,
Someone quick give me a drug to block out it all,
The misery I've endured for too many years,
An acid, a cig, a sip of beer,
Anything that will keep me from dying tonight,
Oh but to think of death,
How sweet,
To think of never bearing pain or thought or another heartbeat,
A simple absolute,
A final relief,
Another great day to be destroyed by the fact of another tomorrow,
There would be a nothing to ever be more,
So think not me suicidal,
Just sadistic and a little mad is justice,
But let you not think that I need help,
I need friends thats all,
To help me get through the roughness,
Maybe I'll eventually callous for once,
And the pain I endured will be a remembrance, a faint dream of wonder
Something like a mystery, yet it ends with fondness

If you laugh, my love,
What will I do?
I'll see the world in brighter hue,
And I will laugh with you.

If you smile, my love,
What will I do?
I'll rest easy, seeing such a view,
And I'll repay your smile to you.

If you frown, my love,
What will I do?
I'll never rest to see your frown,
And I'll run fast to hunt it down,
And when I do,
I'll bring a smile right back to you.

If you agree to hold my hand, my only love,
What will I do?
I'll take your hand and share the hold;
I'll hold your hand while we grow old.

And if you die?
What will I do?
I'll wait in silent memory of your laugh;
I'll wait my life to seek your smile again;
I'll hold you gently in my memory's hand;
I'll wait, of course, and see you once again.

How do you know that the pilgrim track
Along the belting zodiac
Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds
Is traced by now to the Fishes’ bounds
And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud
Have wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,
And never as yet a tinct of spring
Has shown in the Earth’s apparelling;
O vespering bird, how do you know,
How do you know?

How do you know, deep underground,
Hid in your bed from sight and sound,
Without a turn in temperature,
With weather life can scarce endure,
That light has won a fraction’s strength,
And day put on some moments’ length,
Whereof in merest rote will come,
Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;
O crocus root, how do you know,
How do you know?