This fruity array, on a creamy gray day, Makes bright the effects of my night. Though tossing, turning, and chilled to the bone, Somewhere in the sun soars a kite. And even though it might seem, That it’s all but a dream, I swear that my senses don’t lie… Still sleepy and dazed, though the sky is ablaze, With colors unknown to my eyes. So in bed I lie, while I float and I fly, Above trees; above clouds, and beyond. A vagabond lost, on a rich painted trail, Do not wake me; I will not respond.
Last Chance It was a solemn taste: A broken promise: An epic brawl, That brought me to my knees. Their accomplices were many; Three times inflicted With vulgar temptation, And twice with nasty thoughts. Though never more than once, Did this wrong become routine. So where did heaven go? Where’s my second chance? The grueling thought of never more, Lays waste to what I had. Hatred and vomit and sweat and blood. Nostalgic remorse, Drowned, By mine own fiendish yelps. Never, will it ever end. Never, should it ever end.
