I take flight
With all my might
To be your kite
Following you wherever you go
To be part of your ebb and flow
People think I ingested the wrong pill
Because up here I can't see the roadkill
And float over the pitch black oil spills
From the end of your string
I become king

There is an approaching storm
As you deviate from the norm
And discontinue acting warm
Your lightning strikes
My metal pike
Electricity tears through my thin fabric
As I dream of a tranquil casket
And you want to grant me my death wish
I guess that's why they call me Icarish
For flying to close to the rain
Only to constantly feel pain
To distract me from the shame
From those with unknown names
But familiar bigoted flames
To me you both are the same
Once I go against the grain
You tell me to stay in my lane
High above the gravelly ground
Where you can't hear my sounds
Of impaling wailing
Because you're bailing
Letting go of the string
You become king

I am a kite floating
Spending night noting
All my many mistakes
That caused these breaks
But despite trying my very best
The wind provides a difficult test
After I am battered into tatters
My hopes couldn't be flatter
So I start to feel it doesn't matter
When my dreams came true then shattered
The wind solemnly sings
Of distant powerful kings
But I cannot fly anymore
In my broken kite form

Their the glue
          holding my thoughts
solid through the hard times.

I would never fly a kite
            in a storm of depression,
            worried of being struck down.

But when I fly it with them,
the clouds disperse and my kite
                flies high with the love of all.


Every breath pushing my affection higher,
                                   I'll always fly this kite
           as long as there love breathes upon it.

I am not a truster

I don't believe
that everyone will do it right.
That everyone won't
hold my heart
too tight.

I don't want a heart
turned harsh
bright white
by fingertips, that squeezed
for just one night.

You're not everyone
You're a kite.
You love my heart
and you love it
just right.

With your left hand
You lift me.
I take flight.
Because you, my love.
You bring me light.

Beep, beep, beep
A satellite circles but sleeps.
One eye always open,
It catches the lights on its sloping.

What is day but the rays?
What is night but fright?
Cold vacuum meets hull,
But the bite of frost has grown dull.

The satellite may be lonely,
But at least it knows why.
The Earth pulls it along,
As if string to kite, saying
“Please watch me, as I sing in delight.”

A bird’s song, the people clap and cheer,
Unknowingly seen by the seer.
A cruel joke, a sighing anecdote,
When all you can do is float.

Floating kites are for none to keep,
they sail with a subtle grace
and forsake the biblical goth
who regrets to let go of his kite.
Slanting forces try to slay its flight,
but end up launching it high,
high enough  for it to never retreat
to the land blotted with ***** feet.
Born to fly like a lost feather,
to crash or to fly away into space
is for the Gods to decide
and not the wind or the tide.