I feel like a nebula, out here alone

a lily pad floating above undertow

oppositions erode me like I am a stone

but I am a starfish, and I can regrow

I am a mermaid washed aground

I feel like a pixy run out of dust

my thoughts are pulsing faster than sound

my heart is splintering from the thrust

don't let me die out like a lantern

don't slip me off and let me fade

without your wit, I know I can't burn

come calm the tempest you have made

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Gone boy is the one I will keep on my shelf-The curio he will bring me-what small procession his attraction can carry in his gunney stack

A wilted row of homeless fairies weep whenever I look down-but as I smile to the rising, every herald falls to sound-loose boys with light hair speak frilly ways as I trip on wires-I don't falter, but I stumble on the things you wait to stay-stutter me and I'll spit it out like a hidden jewel from my bell-tongue

The state is empty with you out of touch-in time-what the reason wants, just give it up-a cherry-string waxed with parrafin sheen-marrachino umbrella parade on the scene-angry, hormonal, testosterone, mean

Bring back the off-hand ways I used to employ-lest all the perhaps in us maybe's to vain-tinker with child-ideas broken in toy-fall on my hand in a storm cloud of pain-little men try to get my hair back, but you hold me chin in resolution

My faith will give you retribution-Forget the way of our confusion-Perpetuate this grand delusion-and flutter me with bright illusion

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