They shone in the obscurity
                      of every sunset.
Eyes absorbed  every teardrop
        that welled in there vacant
                           tombstone eyes.

But they were more than
                                    obscuration,
       within the stages of radiant demise.
They collected the bounty of those that
      versed from the sacred paths of hues.

There were those that had feel between
          optic blades and the indistinct gleams
that were contentious wounds that were
                                       underhanded shades.

                 The tinges, neither pure of light.
And those that feel in the eclipse of darkness.
        But it was a secret conclave of those
                 who were fractured between both.

But within the collective of shade
                                            and illumination.
Where those that versed the combination
as a sacrilege to the foundations
                                   of eternities motion.

Everyone but a few colluded to  constant versions,
             qualified  hues had to change,
                             or the universe would grow stagnant.
And so began the feud between the shades
         of perpetual opacity.

As the evanescence shimmers
                     where all where falling
                     like dead stars
cleaving within the benighted landscape.
We all glared like life was burying its self.


But they walked between us,
           shimmers of what was wanted.
           And the reputations of our reflections.
Everything must evolve, even the reflections
that fall between the cracks of life's obscurities.

The cracks have appeared.
Wiggly lines stretched across
Such a flat mirrored surface.
They trace the hollows of my eyes,
The curve of my twisty cheeks,
Lines of thick black that fail to mar
My dreamless humanity.

Rain Rain It’s rainining dramatic
Cracks and stumbles
thunderous rumbles
plunging kamikaze droplets
screaming like riotous hordes
drowning out all other sounds
but the crashing of their own
into the rivers of oblivion
engulfing the surface
of all it touches
rushing like the war of ten thousand
but in minutes

two beer towers,
two types of taste,
one felt bitter,
one felt sweet,
beer bears sadness,
beer breaks happiness

the first time I
emptied the tower
was the first time
the beer tasted sweet

drowning in my bitterness
of anger and anguish
dazing over my cups,
why did beer taste
sweeter as it brews
through the cracks of
a shattered heart
and bottled emotions

the second time I tried
to empty the tower
was the first time
the beer tasted bitter

laughing with silliness
of joy and appreciation,
couldn't make it past
my third cup,
why do beer taste
bitter when you're
drunk with happiness
with people who matter.