Self loathing for feeling like a king
Inside a dream only meant for a kid
Not only does your sharp tongue sting
It's poison like an arachnid.
But I can't compete with a tiger who has blazing eyes
Was I bait to be pulled in? Or was it stupid to trust?
Lips crash like the Atlantic and Pacific tides
So glass like
Too fragile for even the clouds’ cotton candy tears tear
The fluff falls for four feminine faces facing furious fates
Gladys goes galumphing gladly
All patterns aside it's torn to pieces
Base rock has been washed and crumbled by the
The man who built his house on the hard and high rock laughs at the poor man on the sand as he watches him drown in God's fury.
Little does he know lighting strikes at higher altitudes
Bubbles tickle my lungs and pop in my throat
The sun blinds me as I pick the palest of yellow flowers in the breezy ocean of shiny glass
A brown leaf crunches satisfyingly under my bare foot.
It's remnants stick to my toes like glue.
Florence proves me wrong once again as she sprinkles specks of
opal and tanzanite
on a bush of navy blue berries
With a flash I send colorful pastel ribbons soaring through the indigo sky.
Once the ribbons have fallen back
the hummingbird has finished
poking holes in the blanket of
MY MOTHER BECKONS ME
My three eyes
count the billions of spectral children Naturaleza has birthed.
Big eyed creatures, seeking warmth, surround my radioactive body.
My eyes fill with the sights of the northern lights
Wisps of green, and tinges of blue dance with my dreams in the late April sky
Buttons popped, while sand filled my bag It's crashing noise sent the ravens away
The lagoon of knee deep water stood still as its mother roared twenty feet away. We stood to the left side and we're knocked on the right
His canvas was adorned in a splash of red. His arm behold art. Brown swaying locks, and .
lingering eyes. Elbows propped the sharp face up.
Water mixed with the seed of poseidon and collected in a marvelous flair and rushed up to my
body. I'm gonna leave my body Moving up to higher ground.
I'm gonna lose his soul. This river keeps pulling me down.
Curls form on my head and salt dries
The sharp faced man with canvases for arms reaches into his pocket and empties out the sand
Cardboard and plastic rinse up onto the warm white minerals of Poseidon’s porch. The shore
gleams like a first kiss
In a fall afternoon after church.
On a Thursday.