Forcing blazing blue eyes across the green-blue waters into rising moon.

The crescent moon floats across the silent water in the end of June.

Crackling flames crushing old logs cooking the moon above is the only tune.

Smoke darkens the water and rises towards the moon as it will be gone soon.

Cold sand under bare thighs and fills a ten gallon hat as the gentlemen whistles away the night before high noon.

Crawling across weakened earth to the dreamy oasis. Veins bulging venom olive and dripping from cracked lips. Unresponsive, moving ghost fingers across bubbles foaming from your mouth. Dunes escape and replaced by blinding white sands.

Middle of death and life sits me. Wondering through open doors wishing they were closed and falling into a routine of pointlessness.

Than cue the purpose. The X to my Y. Pointless converts into a dream, a dream of white fences and Sunday crosswords, lazy Sunday with a dog named Buster and watching Friends reruns. Only if this dream is a dream for two.

Walking the cold night, looking into the moon’s eyes and begging for guidance. Impossible to find something that you’ve already found and lost.

You can see the hills from my house. The view is magnificent. Winds blowing through unpredictable locks with no keys in sight. Creations of our own ruling a better world we have created. Life with just you is all I ever wanted, yet, clouds have all your attention. Snow covers the beauty underneath that I’ve seen before.

I could see the hills from my house. The sun off the cliff side speaks fluent me. Heart melts around the summer nights here laying tears around crust where the mountain usually is. The mountain chases the moon searching for the new. Floating towards the black sky further and further from the sun and lock.

The mountain isn’t there anymore. Chasing clouds and life under the moon is where the mountain is. Snow doubles, hiding the truth like a hidden ruby. The key lays where the mountain and heart use to be.

​The mask is off.

Blank faces rest on weak shoulders and false masculinity.

Sweat pours from strong brows and strong cheek bones too thin jaw lines.

Eyes wondered through, judging silently, to there own appreciation.

The mask is on. The crowd falls in silently to do their bidding and work of drones.

Quietly escorted through the bowels of the beast never questioning the mask.

Spilt in half. The needle weaving in and out of weak thread pulling apart the remains of my heart. Needle jabs the fractured remains of my brusied heart lacing it together like fresh Nike’s.

Earth captured in a mud igloo. Mini bones lay resident to the forced nature home. Some have fled, some have forfeit. No choice left when the rain falls and mud slides. Left waiting for natures kiss of life.

Reflected grains of wheat through parted clouds reveals orange rays. Gentle winds blow crushed leaves into the rippled lake toward squaking ducks. Brown trees stripped of life only to watch the winds carry away the remaining leaves.

Beep boop beep hello? No one can understand me. Size of a Jawa heavy as a Gonk. He’s seen it all. The rise and the fall. From father to son, he’s seen it all. His gold companion will adventure the galaxy alone. The legend, the observer, the narrator.

R.I.P

The bell rang and the fist flew. Towering over all, muscles making men quiver, wearing the gold fitted belt. Conquered a sport for decades and left unchallenged. The great wall has fallen in the night.

R.I.P