Untitled #5
star-drunk child,
foolish in your fear—
announce your cries
to the night,
feel the heat of life
against your wrist
as silver glides deep
beneath the flesh which guides
to prove the story was lies;
as the lines blur
and there are no edges,
but rather the soft echoes
of what was,
the sky is further darkened
and even the stars
are afflicted by
the vices of sarcastic
pain and life.
demand your answer
of the night,
yet fear the reply
which you seek
for it is
hardly a forgiveness
or an acceptance.
star-drunk child
for what do you cry for,
as you kiss the sky
with your palm,
laced in hurt?
