black

(loonar)

250,000 miles away, his shadow still fits perfectly in. at least the moon shows ivory. His smiles few and far apart, occasions for such niceties even more sparse. at least the moon shows that thin crescent of white, on either side of the cycle. pitch black if he sits back, sifts back, patterns of ills wherever he rests and thinks at. rooftop, knoll, porch, stained glass, pane everywhere. at least the moon shines bright, like, its the very center of his universe. accurate. his animal spirit if you wish. too similar. dark surfaces, disillusioned to be light and, gravitational pull, causing tides and, bare all, nair side, tuned out, pharcyde plans. he in his pensive feels like 4.5 million years of sin, about right. silent howls, calling out to better, higher, bigger than him. time is running away, each day, each night, 18th, responsibility and decisions nigh. ethereal how connected he feels. ebony, ivory, he smiles at the familiarity. dark side, lost cries. 

perspective

 

w

Dont shoot me down ma, 

Because I cant exactly expalin the ills of the feels of the eels that slither around this decision. Quick, sliver another line, the one youre threading on is far too thin, have you ever thought of the falling off? The fall is on like another summer waisted in your own tissues, wailing like free nyky! O'nion, nights are longer but that still dont mean the stars align like Orion. Old iron, these bars are aged aches the heart to know of such. Steady pacing waiting, wake me if parole's ready. sentence after sentence intense more in depth more indebted to myself.. i've said, screw it all, what's the sense, nothing is write like all typed, succumb, surrender. God as a witness there is hope. 

the unreal. One in a million, 7 billion, resting as if everyday was the seventh. Work. 

Reap of it. Reams of it. Reek of it. Leek of it. Third eye back to this very night, righting this very wrong, and ridicule the past ills of the feels of the eels that slither around the decision... That i took.