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As you gently drifted under the nightly sky
The moon
The stars
And every light
Shone upon you
as if you were an angel in the night
To talk of it is easily done,
But
To feel it coarse through your vein-
That is a much harder task,
And to the Universe I want to ask:
Why am I so crippled?
Why am I so blind?
We sing like Rain
We scream like Thunder
We shine Like lightning hitting the Crashing Waves
We Mourn like the Storm finally calming itself
We are gloom like the grey Skyies after a Hurricane
Dear world,
I often ponder your composition
A seeming giant reservoir of water
Flowing as one, united
But is this really true?
Humidity is a bitch to me. It’s alive.
Sitting on cement, slapped fresh by Texas afternoon rain.
Microscopic droplets carry home, lingering oils resting on cheeks.
Clouds from above float through chambers of my lungs.
Scratch our story into skin
flip my pages thin
you’ll never forget me.
Justify my every move
to conform to nothing in my
naked mind.
You assure me I’m alive
My eyes are wildflowers
Dirt roads. Weeds and
Willow trees
Main stream is cement.
Dead.
My dreams must live and breathe
I won’t be
anything but myself.
Otherness.
