Particles Of Stars



I am a recovering pessimist,

Se​asoned with jadedness,

Topped off with some obnoxious realism.


My first language is sarcasm

I am well versed in profanity

I am a maker of things

And lay my trust in explanations.

I like my coffee black,

And my whiskey in my belly.


I live in the Whedonverse.

Harnessed by the bindings of a thousand books

Melodies move my every thought

And tone is my choice of weapon.


Give me a 4x4 and four directions

One flatbed and two high heels

I like jeans and swings

The smell of coffee beans.

I hate to hurt

And I often talk with trees.


I live in the places in-between

For displacement is my constant.


But all of this is gathered 

Into a pulse of perseverance.

It's beat gives rhythm to my laughter

For these are the things I carry

And these things carry me.


And the massive wonder of the cosmos does not deter me

For I share particles with stars.

This poem is about: 


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