Bones of ebony ivory drunk ate sing
Shaping the plates numbered nailed
Narrows nine hanging sneakers.
A fading necklace
Tying her laces.

Know yourself to the wells of valleys,
She sang, her voice was swelling
Understand yourself like the
Valleys leading wisely
To the eternal tides.

Cliffed-edge hanging dresses blowing
A flag below her waist over wheels
Of her brave weathered suitcase.
Crystal wing bends portraits of
Dinner plates in place.

Lush hair lady ebony-pale ivory sang Through the valleys dressed like
Her portraits of dining plates
Which weathered storms
She would have chased.

Everyone has their struggles and their mountains to climb and it sometimes seem like I'll never reach the top of mine
And yet there are moments of rest and solitude where I'm able to look back
and see where I have been.
Look back and see the beauty of the valley.

The funny thing about looking out upon these valleys is that while they in their full form are magnificent,
when you get down to details,
it's flawed.
There are cracks in the pavement,
broken street lamps,
and cracks in the foundations of every home, though seemingly small.

You get a different perspective of life looking back.
Like they say,
hind sight is 20/20.
But still there is an overall beauty.
The fact that you created that all.
The fact that even the small seemingly insignificant moments have made lasting chances to where you are now on the uphill climb to the top of your mountain.
My peaks is far ahead of me,
but I'm further up than when I started.
I've gained greater insight as to what has caused the problems,
the slips on the trail that pushed me back a little

Ketamine dreams,
induced narcoleptic nightmares,
poles of northern impulses,
and southern stupors.

My equator's equilibrium,
and my catatonic control,
each one in the same,
yet far from reach.

A squeeze of a lime,
its fresh sour scent,
atop three fingers of gin,
match the burn of my cuts,
and i feel once again.

Cocktail straws set aside,
stirring fingers dull discomfort after a lick,
"three more limes please, barkeep",
it's now triple the pain i seek,
tolerance & your fickle itch.

Taken aback largely by
coveted fate born of star-blind wishes,
have I riveting cause for concern
when I tilt my head to skies
unheard of or ne'r seen before?
against the risen ridges of my veins,
dawn cast shadows steeper than any
mountain range.
So I cry, "Out Sun!"
for its light burns the peeks more than
I could bear, and dries up
valley springs of youth hidden there.

It is so I've come to pray,
Sweet destiny, free from celestial rule,
bake my hubris, till my needs,
water down my ambitions until
between my rushing arteries buds
grand daffodil and tempest lilies.