Tuesday

 


 

her with the milkweed hair

   standing silent in the forest

    i gave my heart to years ago

    shed  my skin to rip it out

bare hands and all 

 poem

   angel of the 

   crescent moon sky

        she makes my 

             heart 

       sing 

 


poem

if we can't find gold 

in the days to come,

why yell at the 

sun?

 

picking between my 

c

    r    oo   

           ked   t e e t h

the hurtful words 

whom

hide from daylight

can' keep livin' 

                    this life

in such disarray 

Monday

 

eating away at my brains

the hateful stress continuously 

        seeps in 

d e e p e r   and     f a r t h e r

        as bleached as the sun

       drained 

from the  red             heat

these worn eyes have been 

through

       oceans and grey storms

      silence fills the room

      as my teeth begin 

      to grind

silver dawn

him with the unbeautiful

mind 

will see through 

the sheer lies

above the mountains

forms a silver dawn

the home to precious angels

whom don't know a 

goddamn thing and butterflies

     sing low music

come to me 

a red rose blooms in my 

palm as the slivered moon 

rises