The End of the World

When the ostentatious of austerity appears to be blinded by muddied mortality then we'll know. Then we'll go- when our chests close: on our souls, on our lungs, on our ribs, on our tongues, collapsing onto the songs we sung. The sun will extinguish
covered in foam. The stars gave us wishes and twinkled and shone. Now they wink in their guise like galactic spies knowing secrets of our suns that die. Our veins will touch from wrists intertwined. Hands held so deep; a soulish type vine. Our eyes will be coals, and our hair will be thorns. Stabbing and jabbing and poking with scorn. Scalpless and hurting we'll run to the womb. But now that we're older there won't be much room. Our hearts will beat in time with this war. If only we'd practiced this music before. It will be so dark there will be such fright But in the next moment an insatiable light.

The Peach Tree

Years ago we sat in the Peach tree
The scraped inner crook of knees
caused by feet, swinging on beat
hung at a 90 degrees from the tree

Our skin so smooth and the bark so rough
padded soles of feel so tough
Our tender hearts were enough
All because of our child-like love

Making a tear of sorts from the place
the peach kissed your lips with grace
and you longed with childlike taste
for the juice to adhere to your face

But now look at what a mess we're in!
ground below and the fear within
succulent fruit on our chins
and the leaves sway like we were 10.

A Nautical Mess

And the water was a grumbling, vomiting mess. In the scope of your ocean-ness. The algea of the sea and the salt, oh the salt, its not your fault. Something you're not. The black and white sweetness of being. Soggy crackers on everything. Saltine to Marine. A floppy heart scene.
The Sky tried to cry, but its anger was too much. Oh what a rush of wind. Its happening again. "This is the last time so go hard or not at all". Repetition then the fall. Bless the fall then curse it all.