How cruel that you managed to shut her mouth
from which she spills her heart
& blinded her eyes
from which she drank your grief.
You're killing more of her dreams
than failure ever could.
Enamored we stood side by side
What then consumed us to twilight.
To the point the groveling sun grew so strong,
he managed to conceal all that could have gone wrong
in a net of radiant veins that tore into the sky.
Madder and madder until we're madder than mad
Because we both know that none of us are leaving here alive
Here's the first confession of 2016:
I'm 5'2"now.
Looks like we all did some growing up since we last spoke
Wouldn't you agree?
C1:
"Help! Please save us!" they cried and two ropes dangled down from the sky.
With a glance at each other, the brother and sister each took a line and climbed.
They climbed and climbed until they don't remember climbing anymore.
They didn't even remember they had been anything else but the moon and sun.
At least twice a year they meet during what we call the solar eclipse.
It is during this short period they are able to talk.
"How have you been?" the brother would ask.
"Not bad," Said the moon, "But its becoming so painful always seeing the dark"
"What do you mean?" asks the sun.
"In the dark, horrors happen. People kill and are left where its cold-It must be
oh so nice during the day when the world is lit up"
"Sister," Says the sun, "The day is not much better. People still do those things"
Night or day, its only ever been but a function of time and an angle of light or things that are bright.
I never did quite understand the potato.
Such a silly looking food staple
With an equally silly name.
If I were to be a food--
I'd like to be a thin slice of veal,
a Guiness double chocolate cake,
or even something like sesame soy flank.
Yet in the end
I'm quite just like the potato
who cannot escape its fate:
Plain and tasteless raw
But with potential of such variety
When it comes to being shaped
by a pair of weathered hands;
the chef from either above or below.
Thanks for the offer--for opening a door
One thats never existed until you.
I can smell a different world wafting through
& when I peek in, I can see all the "What Ifs..."
Yes, thanks for the offer--a wonderful one, indeed.
But I'm going to have to decline
For I've got a closet full of skeletons
Who I've got to keep inside
As always, you are the light
& I suppose this time around
I've evolved from a moth to Icarus.
Ragged & tattered; I've become intoxicated.
I cannot resist this warm drug until its extinguished.
At this point of change, it makes me infer that
I think I'm just a tad shy of plain madness.
I'm here.
Would it be conceited for me to say
I've never been anywhere else?
I've always been here, though I have to admit
I've been carried, without the permission of our planet,
For Twenty and One lengths of a circumference around that
Flaming body of a so-called star.
Whom still manages to be incapable of enough warmth
during the particular times,
though it has had the credibility of consistence.
I'm not saying I don't want to be
--and not meaning to come off as difficult,
but I wouldn't mind in the least if I could be,
Here, and at the same time
Capable of truthfully adding the two words:
With You
Once again--
Its about that time of hour.
The kind that lasts the length of a childhood,
Subtract the number of clueless teenage years.
To then be left on the empty plate of a University student, such as myself,
who has a proclivity to be quite picky when it comes to what is ingested.
And finally, before stepping across the stage towards what has previously
been etched out by life, be suffocated in a simple, indebted cardboard box.
Can we, please? Just take a moment of silence.
So we can hear the dying breaths of my dream.
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