For every kind word, a poem, a hit,
I swear to god I must write some shit,
A page of brilliance, of words inspired,
I write ten more just for the fire,
And on nights when I write my best
I drink to try to forget the rest.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
The Bastard and the Ethereal (2012)
The fatherless child, woefully insignificant,
dares a gaze upon the wondrous.
And stands he in her sight,
he the subliminal shadow heart.
For a moment sublime he feels their eyes meet,
and she reaches stone covered heart
in a gaze she never registers.
She sees and she never knows,
never sees that shadow boy that fades into the light.
She hears and she never knows
his whispering on the wind.
"Mother, today I touched a star."
dares a gaze upon the wondrous.
And stands he in her sight,
he the subliminal shadow heart.
For a moment sublime he feels their eyes meet,
and she reaches stone covered heart
in a gaze she never registers.
She sees and she never knows,
never sees that shadow boy that fades into the light.
She hears and she never knows
his whispering on the wind.
"Mother, today I touched a star."
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