Velvet pages tickle my face
Resting low in my blanket cave

I was born under the full moon
And by its light I lived:
Illuminated pages turn to fresh breaths
Of escapism.
Steamy pages and blushing cheeks
Keep me warm as moonlight fades
And pages close

Ears ache from finding
what they're afraid to hear:
A creak on the stairs.
Covers crinkle and pages crease.

A faux-sleep breath emerges.
The sliver of light expands
And deflates.
The stairs creak again.

The moon and flames of shame
rise again.

Someday the secret's out.
I ache with flames double to today.

They say I am the books I hide:
Filthy fit to burn.
But the moon will share no secrets
For now.

She hangs low in the evening
like she's worn out from the shift before.
Her golden feet bless the tarmac
of the road below,
Playing children swallowed
into her glowing belly to
become obscured blotches
submerged in the delicate fabric of
her tangerine light.
She falls.
A silent ambush.
Drowned in the warmed cement.
Dragged down by darkening blues.
Before she is buried into the darkening hours
she peeks her head just above the ground
to see murky figures appear once again,
they wander through the charcoal haze
in gangs of hoods and ski masks
and lie in the middle
of the empty streets and scream.

The moon wanes, translucent power grows dull,
senses pulled back beneath a layer,
sticky apathy encasing,
chambered in gloom.

It waxes,
the beams gleam stronger now,
feeling returning,
bubbling, burning.
How bright this glow!

Catch it quick,
grab a jar before it darts
and sinks away into the lagoon,
where the stench and vile waters
swallow it back up.

love is dark; a universe. a cluster of stars
so close, yet so out of reach
a glimmer of hope for something to reach us back.

when i'm inside your orbit
south is up, north is west
radiating the never-ending decay

say, what is it like up there?
overseeing countless cities of competition
of who's the brightest?

there's no true north.
no inside or out. just, just you
and me, and the lunar sunsets

love is empty. love is distant.

But maybe I misread the moon.
(She never hides things for long).
You never gave me the chance
to understand why you hate me.

But maybe this is Her way of saying:
by having you completely gone
A new path can finally be cleared.

On the night of initiation,
curves of pale luster began to gleam unwrinkled from the darkened divots along the lunar surface
A perspective unseen for so long, it was viewed as a defaulted “wink” on the face of the moon
And therefore, forgotten, unmentioned, until it’s means were sought  

From days ‘fore, and long since now dust
Scribing authors, secrete beads of frenzy  into ink filled phial
Sending tremors down, into the quill tip
Filling scrolls for permanence in a preemptive defense against continuous unraveling thoughts would befall
this fluency into incoherent clutter  

Pioneers of preprint in a provoking tome,
would speak educated reasons why these areas of Moon had been locked under sealed dark punishment

since Empedocles mixed cosmic elements to breed an undeniable proving truth

Exhibiting the myth of danger
alongside
The established absolute and supervening fizzling sunset
proving the existence of love...

—————————————————-

“Since I have given you words from my within
like the ecliptic rising and burning massive,
Our mutual visibility of late is either one-sided
or
short lived
I’ll take a detour around the comforts of romance
And try to talk my way into your pants
By tossing at you, letters squeezed together,
for your minds transcription into the heart of my subliminal write  
In hopes you’ll feel a trickling gush
If I get really lucky these words will find you like a volcano erupts a ****
The same way water, beating against years of stone can fall
And crash through a dam with pouring force so insatiable it’s territory is marked in history