It is ever-breaking fragile pain,
Thinly-strung lightning-flames.

It is stressing, tense, and pulsing life.
To force down grief, to strengthen strife.

It is flowing wonders' pouring heart,
A weathered, broken beggars' cart.

It is swimming through the sunlit air
On perfume-scented strands of hair.

It is sprouting springtimes luscious glade,
And lying down in burning shade.

It is a flashing trick of fading shadow,
In summer sunlights only meadow.

It is broken trust and spoken lies,
An angry haze in bleeding eyes.

It is sipping sweetness and pouting lips,
A flag of peace that snags and rips.

Rain is dramatic, but short lived-
storms half-hearted.
Sun shines strong and low
through art-work cloud, and
finger-print-blooms rock and sway
on a whispering green-leaf sea.

October 2020 is the hot-sweet-tea
left outside my room, after the row I caused
when I was 15.

i should be happy. i am.

like the black crayon that smeared into your yellow
will you remember next time
to use the yellow one first?

It's been one
year
since rescuing my
cat,
and I'm looking
forward
to being his
owner
for ages to
come.

I brought her to the water by the moon,
To share with her, the shade beside the sea,
I gave to her my eyes, that she might see,
and sang to her the most afflicted tune.

I prayed of her what she might ever do,
When faced with all the mightiest would fear,
She whispered, through a solitary tear,
A crystal verse to stay her last adieu.

When fires of gold have shed their morning light,
When embers fade and only ash remains,
When enemies of old are at the gates,

Do not embrace the darkness of that night,
Or think upon those ashes with disdain,
For all that might remain will share our fate.

I'm dancing in the moonlight
Because I'm sick of the
Summer of love