The stars shine brighter than the books say they’re supposed to

And the tall grass ain’t as green as the other side had proposed

I was too drunk to see the starshine

In the daytime I saw their glimmer spark and melt into some bronze eyes

Two rings of lulled dreamscapes I near missed when I fell into a low tide

 

I writ in song so that the stanzas, you can’t read them, but you listen

Can you smell the vodka in the lines I’ve slowly written?

 

My grammar is too impaired, my vocal chords show their ripping from acidic potions

A mix of melancholy and packed-away wishes

 

Hope for natural light, surely it’s prettier in some valleyed eyes

And I could dream of that scene in the dead of every night.

 

On a new morning, I could see straight as I lock my knees

That the stars’ gold shines bright over rosed cheeks

 

In the absence of all, too long I heard the rapids roar

Trying to sleep faster than the moon pushes its seashells ashore

 

On this Field Day, I promise to show new colors, I writ

“I can’t depict scenes that live outside my eyelids.”

 

In the vacant space that is my head, the somber sky

One violet, one tired, hoping to see me still alive

It finally pried with the hook of a crescent moon

It done pulled at my arms and knocked out a front tooth.

 

The stars seared the skin of my ribcage

I would feel solar arches tighten and burn around my thinned waist.

 

I never learned how vital feelings were until I needed them

That the soul will always search for another to grant it freedom

 

And the starshine is brighter than the books had promised me

That even light bleeds through the darkest forests’ canopies.