I’ve tried tossing love into cracked dirt
hoping to buy assurance from Mother Earth
but as I count stars they glow with laughter,
a buzzing hive of miss matched chatter.
My nightly prayers light themselves on fire
with the dusty embers that sparkle down
from the fluttering eyelids of cosmic blemishes.
But I must try not to forget,
the opinions of stars are dead.
Gone now for billions on billions of years,
so there’s no reason for my hurt howling stare
yet, my arms stretch out into the vast emptiness
we’ve started to call my side of the bed
as I feel for the hands that will sow my grave
and repay my sin by snipping my marionette strings,
Until the encore of the worms restarts everything.
the infernal stars go on squeaking!
Setting off car alarms,
Buying off shadows.
Ive tried tossing love into cracked dirt
but ever time I try I hear the twinkle of a smirk
too far away to be anything but the rustling silence
belonging to the influences of the universe.