more poetry, less trite bullshit. Who cares that I bought groceries today?
=========
Gnawing on a string of midnight;
anger is omniverous.
I’ll grease metal silver-cloud-linings, trying
to slide down some unsuspecting constelation;
a star-spangled banister-rider,
banging eye-sores with tear-drips from the sky’s lips.
Luna never sang so sweet
her concave crater-stains smiling sweetly at me
or grinning greedily at me.
Is the moon fuzzy like a peach?
Trying to turn over a new emotion-leaf.
Rubbing brain-elbows with eucalyptus leaves;
soaking myself in the star-light’s-echinacea-tea.
=========
I didn’t even look out the window. I’d probably only see light polution anyway.