when i nibbled at the sugar laced moon

so let's suppose the moon laid down last night on a bed of roses as the streetlamps chimed the hours, would the broken down words still matter? short sharp pricks of love, as shadows spread on worn down cobbles where tiny wild flowers fill up the spaces. the clouds set sail earlier in the day, white puffy clouds, tripping away and i wish i knew slang in flemish as i searched for vintage postcards, to say, "i am glad i was here today".

whispering moon

six degrees of seperation between you and me and yet the disconnect couldnt be deeper. love is a stranger who walked into town last night with not even the howling dogs to welcome him. a lonely moon sat huddled in a dark corner of the sky as icy winds whipped the clouds into a frozen souffle. tsk tsk tsk loneliness is a wintry moon adrift on a heartless chill.

scar tissue

the day arrives but my thoughts are still in pajamas; words typed on notepad, -not now....later.
The sky is snatched from darkness, in a moment of brillance, a bit like the volt charge when you crinkle your eyes. the wind carries the salt from the ocean and my tounge seeks the taste... will lick it off like a knife scraping butter. little stuff counts... this counted... that didn't... if only i wasn't so consious of myself... i wish i could abandon myself completely...i would then have been the scar tissue around your heart.