Poinsettia
Floral,
red petals,
pointed, poignant, leaves,
bright, bold red blossoms
alongside
the tree.
2012
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Purple ashes in the sky. At dusk they fall as my dreams turn to dust. They were of silk, but it was lust. Unreal was the zeal where diamonds encrust. There's no chance to be cut or shined amid the rut of not fitting like the cut of a “normal” kind of strut. My walk's not with a limp, but it is with a sway. Most people don't think my way, and it's battered me today. I thought I would know the way, but I'm still climbing higher. It is odd, and it is dire. I was born to be stuck this way. Without typical tools, without typical rules, I'm in my own school of life and wearing these painful shoes, somehow paying the dues while my heart wears a bruise. And I wheeze from these ashes. They look purple to me as they fall from the mauve sky where my dreams flew up to die because those dreams were just a lie. Some people get by and some people try, but they're trapped under the rhythm. It's a dice, and it's a schism It's a priv...
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