Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Let's get high and be stars
Charming smiles that slice like a dagger.
Your eyes are crisp stars glowing bright
As though they were their own suns.
You should have seen the moon last night,
All alone, in a perfectly clear sky,
With not a cloud to blemish its surface.
Upon the pale is a dent that comes to surface
After drowning like a dead man. I have daggers
For a perfect occasion, pills to help me float to the sky.
But in the dark, I lose myself and am bright
Enough to leave well enough alone, for the night
Has sprinkled me with legions, large as suns.
I scratch them off, watch as they worsen, burning a sun's
Fire as I scream unto god, blaming life for what my surface
Shows, a fathom of scars, glowing in the night.
I see stars shoot from your palm, splitting into me like daggers
That emaciate my soul. I wander. I'm bright.
I can be wounded and still read the maplike sky.
What is a person who follows the sky
Home? A fool who sits and stares at the sun.
It never occurs to you that your eyes suffer from the bright
Ball of fire. I do like its surface,
It never gets touched. It never cuts itself, its daggers
Are rays, not charm. And it is always gone at night.
A fever for your evening, some wanton for your night.
Lest you forget to crave. On your back, the sky
Between your legs like a rusted dagger
To your heart. Avoidance is naught. I am the sun.
I am hot to the touch, my surface
Just short of insanity but oh so bright.
But I get so high that my shine loses its bright
And I am dull again. I will fade away from night
And hope that I land on my feet on the cool surface
Of reality. I am really small. I am not meant for the sky.
I am not meant to be a ray sheening from the sun.
I was meant to be tiny, sad and clutching a dagger.
The day so bright, I pray to the blue sky
And when night drops, I pray for the sun.
On the surface, I am fine. Underneath, anxiety becomes a dagger.
December 4th, 2007
Suge
Your eyes are crisp stars glowing bright
As though they were their own suns.
You should have seen the moon last night,
All alone, in a perfectly clear sky,
With not a cloud to blemish its surface.
Upon the pale is a dent that comes to surface
After drowning like a dead man. I have daggers
For a perfect occasion, pills to help me float to the sky.
But in the dark, I lose myself and am bright
Enough to leave well enough alone, for the night
Has sprinkled me with legions, large as suns.
I scratch them off, watch as they worsen, burning a sun's
Fire as I scream unto god, blaming life for what my surface
Shows, a fathom of scars, glowing in the night.
I see stars shoot from your palm, splitting into me like daggers
That emaciate my soul. I wander. I'm bright.
I can be wounded and still read the maplike sky.
What is a person who follows the sky
Home? A fool who sits and stares at the sun.
It never occurs to you that your eyes suffer from the bright
Ball of fire. I do like its surface,
It never gets touched. It never cuts itself, its daggers
Are rays, not charm. And it is always gone at night.
A fever for your evening, some wanton for your night.
Lest you forget to crave. On your back, the sky
Between your legs like a rusted dagger
To your heart. Avoidance is naught. I am the sun.
I am hot to the touch, my surface
Just short of insanity but oh so bright.
But I get so high that my shine loses its bright
And I am dull again. I will fade away from night
And hope that I land on my feet on the cool surface
Of reality. I am really small. I am not meant for the sky.
I am not meant to be a ray sheening from the sun.
I was meant to be tiny, sad and clutching a dagger.
The day so bright, I pray to the blue sky
And when night drops, I pray for the sun.
On the surface, I am fine. Underneath, anxiety becomes a dagger.
December 4th, 2007
Suge
Comment On This Poem ---
Let`s get high and be stars
Let`s get high and be stars
