I misplaced a tear drop
                                   into a jar full of collected rain.
  
Cloudy thoughts sway me forward to face the day
   ahead

Her paper-thin wings, inked in grainy
yellow and true azure blue;
The butterfly's ****** movements twitched
Like a stop motion puppet's.
Her bearded creator bows in sarcastic devoir
Wheeling out the spiralling portal
And contorting it to a star that rapidly unfolded--

At last, the pale sequinned godess is upon us,
Trembling in goosebumps like raindrops atop
   the rattling leaf. Sacred imprisoned witch;
    harbour of her sister's thorny cobweb, and fangs
That wish nothing more than to knit upon our sordid

            flesh.

O  how we have aged
         mother Earth...

You seldom know who is talking inside your head.
Your social life is full of surprises.

Daydreaming witty memories that sailed smooth
While real time Lord Quas the unseen plays, beaming
Me back in time, Marty McFly draining the east of oil
As his engine gave out; such a silly scene your ****** features in the neon paint,

A picture of chaos, toned dance (canvas for the shadows to ballet upon)

That morphs back, eyes hovering kissing nose goodbye
and whole expressions metamorphing to resemble a trillion milliseconds bygone--
Hauntings of you so long ago hook at
Your brow like spiderlegs thru sac--
So many days where I could happily live forever, so many days
Spent
by
Your side, buttertea on the slow days wasting time on dominoes.
I'm taking care of business, as they say; green is bussiness
The faces on the pennies we skipped into the wishing fountain on our first date
Probably wouldn't recognise us.

The world seemed much more coherent a few years ago and I'm running
Out of options but I'm standing my ground because its fight or starve.

But how we stick and strive because in your face I see a mystical mirror
That reflects me truer than any glass could.

I kiss your skin. I seal the deal and think to ask you to marry me

But it's too late
at
Night. My hair isnt neat enough and I'm not familiar with this part of town. And how very out of place I would look

Neath this ***** neon that turrets
This precious moment we waste contempt




in silence.

Feelings that flow out
in words that I know
making sense of the
nonsense around me.

Poetry surrounds me
preserves me
and
like a dry stone walling
stops me from falling
off the end of the world.

Curled up in the bed
I could be catlike and
that like
I like.