Het Poema moved through the snow

                         Fierce like a great windstorm

                                             Hiding from the barbaric hunter

Fatal like a shotgun

                    Moving swiftly as the ocean

                                              On a stormy night

But Het Poema is quick

                      And the hunter is lunch

                                               His weapon  left in the cold winter snow

And his blood

                To be unnoticed

                               For an eternity

The ocean was a monster
Following her, swallowing her
She ran and ran until she couldn't run anymore
The ocean, freezing blue turned maroon, caressed her
Comforted her
Swift as a coursing River
The wind pushes her over
Trees swaying with fury

Her eyes fall closed
As the waves consume her
She watches the sun set, orange over the mountains
She closes her eyes, thinking of everything she had seen, done, read, dreamed
She thinks of the literature licking lollipops, the words working wonders
Now the moon shines bright, high in the sky
She smiles morosely as one last gelid wave washes her away
Forever

Around the landscape,
Grass is perfect, made of plastic
False flowers bloom year-round
The sky is a brilliant cerulean, always
The world does not spin,
Tilted on it's axis
Everyone is perfect,
Their faces equivalent to one another
There is no love,
Nor naturalism
Everything is artificially sweetened.

She was a ray of sunshine
  That no one could bring down
  Until one day,
  An ominous boy, a dark cloud,
  Followed her around

                                                                              And then she found an umbrella
                                                                             It helped her
                                                                             For a short while
                                                                             She then fell and cut her knee
                                                                              On the sharp gravel, a smiling villain


Soon, she found a band-aid
Hidden among trees and undergrowth
  That was a silver sheild
  But before long,
  The ominous boy,
  The dark cloud,
  Caught her

                                                                     And he stole her umbrella
                                                                      And ripped the band-aid off her knee
                                                                     With all his might
                                                                    His arm made of platinum
                                                                    And left her
                                                                    Bleeding on the gravel
                                                                    Blue in the moonlight
                                                                    And she became a dark cloud as well

A girl stands on a beach
Watching the sun set
             Tangerine-colored clouds on the horizon
              The girl sits down in the sand
Feeling cold, wet pebbles beneath her fingers
And thinking

Of everything she'd ever thought, done, said
As gelid waves began to wash over her
                                     Slowly, patterning
                                      Not skipping a beat
Just like her heart

Now the moon shimmers
High in the sky
                         The girl lay down in the sand
                          As she took her last breath
A weight lifted off her shoulders
And she smiled.

The boys fell,
                   fell,
                        fell far away
From the whimsical air where the ocean lay
Where the waves came up to swallow them
As the tree, tall as the empire state building
Swayed soft and steady

The wind slapped them as they walked
Slowing their pace
But nobody, no, nobody cared
And the boys, pale as paper
Watching as the moon glistened through cryptic clouds

And they moved against the wind
Slowly at first, then faster, faster
Until they collapse into
Wildflowers, dyed scarlet with blood
Dripping into a quickly flowing river
Pulling the boys along with the cold curren