When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M

I am not one to treat a beast decent
but I've fed that demon as of recent
this creature eats my peaceful pieces
with hate increased, my whole decreases

The green hill's mist
is weeping through
the blades
of grass.

“You dated a girl and she became a man”
He
Was always
Man

Yes, aspiring
To be that space where nothing
Brings disappointment