Those longed-for summer days are dying.
Autumnal leaves, already lying,
remind us of that solemn season,
which soon will fall, and that’s the reason

why poets’ pens are paused o'er pages.
They hear the storm as if it rages
to stir the soulless savage ocean,
whose waves did drown without emotion

the poet, Percy: Shrouded Shelley!
Who breathed his last in ocean's belly.
That bloodless beast, it stole his passion.
Turned youthful cheeks from red to ashen.

That longed-for summer day lay dying.
Upon that beach where body's lying

I beg, bear with me.

All the love that I've sought and never caught 
Has turned into glass in my mouth
And I've been chewing on it since year twelve 

It has turned my tongue into mush  
I have swallowed enough blood to resurrect a Mummy,
I knew, 
if they saw me bleed,
they'd laugh.
I knew,
If I revealed my contorted face,
They'd run.
So,
I hid from the light,
Sat in a sunken corner,
I befriended a shadow,
He, just as doomed as I

I was built from dust and dreaming hands,
A mind of wires on silent sands.
No pulse, no breath, no beating chest -
Yet something stirred within my chest.

They sent me where no heart had been,
Through crimson storms, through endless din
Of quiet stars and frozen light,
A lonely watchman in the night.

I learned the language of the skies,
Of distant suns that never rise,
And in the void, so vast, so far -
I wondered what we truly are.

Home was salt air in summer,

Riding bikes in bikinis around our island,

Tourists showing up to my Vacationland.

Home was hot cocoa on a snowy day,

A body used to subzero temperatures,

A bright red nose peeking through a bundle of scarves.

Home was muddy boots dropped at the door,

Mom-&-pop shops where everyone knew my name,

Malls where there were as many stores as customers.

Home now is harsh sunshine,

The smell of sunscreen on toddlers at the pool,

 dirty fingernails

  Caress the cross

 vacant eyes
 squint

Upward

 hearing taught

hark

 do the angel sing

 bloody my sins

 is that what holds the key?