Moonlight shone through the windows
and onto the floor in long,
bright
blue
rectangles.
The shadows from the leaves in the trees swayed back and forth like they were
dancing with the cold
November
night
wind.
The moon was their spotlight, my front yard was their stage
and they danced
with
no
music.
The trees savoured every moment with the wind, for they were each other’s lives,
and could not dance
without
the
other.
The trees cried when the wind was not there, and the wind came to wipe its tears,
and then
they
danced
again.

Her voice like a song
Running its fingertips through my hair
Ivory chords and wind blowing
Orange-coloured like that of dawn
Soft like a laugh and syrup

Her music isn’t just noises, and all along
It twists and dances like spells in the air
Emerald notes and feeling flowing
Blue-coloured like the sand and sea’s bond
Sweet like love as you try to keep up

She swings bright and long
Skipping in the sky with me, kind and fair
Quartz singing and so much heart showing
Violet-coloured like the rest of them, gone
Short like time we have, siphoned from our cup

But I’m a cacophony compared to her song
It’s all just noises and all along
I cry when I fall, harsh and long
I’m a cacophony when compared to her song

But I can’t hear the music playing in my hair
It’s angled and tripping over all of the air
I see what she sees, but it’s mean and not fair
I can’t hear the music that plays in my hair

But I fail and it’s dusk when she is the dawn
It’s low tide and the water breaks its bond
I run and I scream and my sound is gone
I fail and it’s dusk when she’d rather be dawn

But I prefer plain and not sticky sweet syrup
It’s hard to try but I must and I cannot give up
I wish for a drink, but from my still empty cup
I am quite plain and not sticky sweet syrup.

Here comes the camera girl,
Clumsy American beauty!
With a French hat placed upon her head lazily,
And her camera hanging from her neck.
Looking around the streets,
Photographing Paris, a way to live through scenes.

But she'll never be happy,
Just watching the people,
Who dance by the Eiffel Tower.
No, she must dance!
But alas, she has no man with which to dance,
How sad.

Strike me down baby,
Strike me down.
Take me to the dance floor,
Let me see the fire in your eyes.
Move with that passion,
I yearn to see.
I'll catch you if you fall,
While pouring your heart out.
So while were still young,
Move those hips.
And hit me up,
Looking good,
Looking fly,
Looking like I might just have to try,
Something crazy to be your guy.
Don't leave me hanging baby,
Your wild fire tames me.
So do the ballet,
Of the modern world,
Let me watch while you twirl.
And leave me lusting,
Once again.

Like a sweet hymn of orchestra
The wind blew and the night was soft
Pearly snowflakes falling gently
into a winter land

She walks out of the house
with her gleaming eyes
Her blonde hair drifting in the wind
while the white dress clings to her
like an artic flag,
basking in the fine hour

She looks up and sees the snow falling
down her face and hands
And she searches for warmth, her arms stretched
toward the frost-bitten sky

Slowly dancing and spinning
Following her own rhythm
A silent poinsettia garden, blooming
Tracing the shape of her tender smile
That was warm in the midst of winter

Honor, I wear a discotheque
Like, a clown's first dance
Integrity, comes for permission, wicked
Opinion, salt and pepper on an egg, is a demon's problem

Little more, than a thank you
Sassafras, is no hap's ecstasy
In the proud and angry due...
We made a frank photograph, your drunk intimacy...

Is a pardoned stare, at faerie tales
Meant upheld, upheaval is a wager
Of a world, with no clash with vice fail's
Proper though, in the name of fate's mere

Mercy, with an extra shirt
Ready for a pant's relent, regret
In an unescapable kiss, of hurt
And possessing quaintness, we are the boding let...

Witness the gasp...
Of a spirit, erudite to a finish
Of levity, long before callous can ask
Is it all right, to wink at liberty's wish?

life gets so busy
and hard to control
so you continue your absences
you’re on a streak, on a roll

5, 6, 7, 8
does this effect my fate?

I know the answer, I know the truth
i always say I’ll work on it
ive said it since my youth

it becomes a hassle
a tough way to live
but you chose this life,
“oh what I’d give!”

but now you’re stuck
hanging by a thread
and your time is consumed by this
and the thoughts in your head

you can’t remember the last time you went to get coffee with your mom
or the last time you held sand in your palm
by the ocean waters, feeling the breeze
but now you’re here, killing yourself for your dream
and all you can do is remind yourself to breathe
and think of the things you want to achieve

push past your body’s limit
and start a new day
with affirmations
that don’t feel the same
as when you started to say them
you recite them anyway

scrunch your toes in your sneakers
and ballet slippers
my contemporary socks
and **** in my stomach,
under my tights and over my liver

the baby pink
so soft and sweet,
your teachers tell you “better turnout, is what you need”

sing to the radio
in your mother’s car
she takes a risk
and drives you so, so far
but god knows
your feelings are tightly kept
under your bed
in a glass jar.

they rot and rot away
until you open them up
and spill them into your notes app
or onto a blank sheet of lined paper