As time twists
into the tenderness
of twilight
and there is no
light seeping
into the density of sight .
The sky starts
to stagger and
wake for I’ll
still be there when
the dawn
begins to break .

despite entrenched familiar
obsessive compulsive disorder behavior
distracting me courtesy
countless what if scenarios,
particularly before undergoing
voluntary drastic makeover
as iterated in a previous poem,
and briefly recounted here
as foregoing Samson personification
now please don't blame Delilah!

She was sitting on
a bench
swinging her feet
tucked in
black patent leather

and when our eyes
met, she
grinned at me as if
she had
known me from

another time, another
place where
perhaps we had played
together
joyfully, as children tend to do.

A billion stars that shine out
into the darkened night.
Rebuked the tears that fell down
these freckled cheeks of mine.

I waited for the morning,
to feel the bright sunshine.
Sometimes it would show up,
but often clouds raced by.

Reminding me of ups and downs
that could not be denied.
Emotionally in peril
I'd stumble to the ground.

Only then to rise again
to walk another mile.
To rest beneath a shady oak,
reflect on what was mine.

Love left unspeakable wounds difficult to bandage.
The scars will turn to whispers in time,
but absence will always be the one shouting.

Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.

Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.

every tick-tock
of that old clock,
running chills
along my spine
as I shiver
and cringe
in a sweat icy cold.
I should be sleeping
soundly
in my bed.
but I am surely not,
for every tick-tock
of that old wooden clock
sounds counter point
to every beat of my heart
echoing like the thudding of
my old worn drum...
in this massive rocky cavern.

Born of the gods in the Second Order
Inspiration world over, that defies all borders
Raised like art on the Sacred Rock
Wise with grey eyes that seduce or can shock

Aesthetic, poetic, majestic and proud
Honest but modest with headdress, no crown
Oversees all and she’s nobody’s fool
Builds bridges and breaks them, her mind is the tool

Riddled with rivals but none take her place
A shrine of Her’s built, sun shines on her face
Born of Metis and Zeus, in a pivotal time
Athena the grey, remains in her prime

Leaves fade
green to gold and orange,
deep crimson, too.
Blackberry gin on lips,
summer blinks away but
I still crave the taste of you.
Patchwork and grace,
leather and lace,
mountain peaks drenched
in neons streaks,
pink and orange,
sunset smeared
with a hint of lavender.
Silk caresses
before stars emerge.

We run wild,
we run feral,
but we will never
run away.

Love left unspeakable wounds difficult to bandage.
The scars will turn to whispers in time,
but absence will always be the one shouting.