Young Writers Society

6-22-05 (First day of summer)



The night sank with a fast, speedy train cycle

and his mind didn’t know itself anymore,

it was good, it was Eden, beneath a moon turned the color of decay

(black and sculpted, like a model’s beautiful black–

)hey, it’s time for pie.



I’ve found you in a corner of the bathroom,

I’ve found you in a place called colours

I see orange tigres burning bright

above our mother-fucking black sky.



The heartbeat of a strummer’s bass-line delight

the wrinkling anticipation that caused us all to fade with you

behind the silver-blue night-time starburst.

Losing myself in raps of multi-color

crayon-line lies.



A crying mother who saw death ring the night

of her baby’s blue nursery, screamed to the heavens “dude, saw her away.”

She screamed a cacophony of us, alone.



***



I’m losing the flag of union

beneath a few long-lost dreams of loneliness,

I miss you, man of the deepest cave.