"Fragments" I wrote a poem.

Night’s breath whispering

upon my naked ears

translating a sky of ecstasy

I linger in the ethereal

of ridicule and grace

but my lips conceal

a smile like the Mona Lisa.

I have no memory of your words

only feelings

that lead me astray

into a dismal panic attack

of sputtering smoke

from a crappy cigarette.

Its just me and the moon now

gliding our way down

a dormant city street at 2am

I cannot sleep

it’s an illusion

it has beaten me

with a gnawing fatigue

disguised of lonesome attributes

a longing to be neither here nor there

but to survive something I can’t quite explain.

Perhaps, ambiguity is my mask

parading its soft gaze

and quiet nature

for something that can’t

be bought or exchanged.

Making sense never fit me

I’m not a cookie cut woman

imprisoned by domesticity

but a woman sailing away

in a vacant sea

where my shadow only knows me.

I don’t understand today

and probably not tomorrow

but people hide in a tranquil state

of vibrations and electronic data

deprived of ingenuity

governed by insecurity

and defined by instinctual competition.

My eyes hurt at the world I see

it’s draining and frightening

and combative with incessant

objections and proclamations

There is no reverse

only forward

tip-toeing

dragging its feet

in the dark like some drunkard

sleeping in a junkyard bath

regurgitating a volatile ballad

of denial and circumcised hope

The fog’s settling in

and night’s breath has turned damp

perhaps transfixed

and reckoned for a mournful sunrise.