This is not a haiku.

The moon in the sky is a giant golden plate,

For some lonely soul to dine on;

No amount of food could coax the,

Black hole that consumes it all. 

Let’s go grab something to eat and

Pretend it won’t be another silent dinner.

We’re not running out of things to say

All the time whenever we are

Right together and alone.

I’ve bitten my tongue in order to make it into paradise,

Until I realized that sins can also be incriminating thoughts;

I look at my fellow mouth bleeders and think,

Well we’re fucked.

The day is old,

The night is young,

My wounds need licking,

Yours do not.

Step on a crack,

Break your mot her’s back,

Try to explain that you thought it was a game,

As she lies on the gurney, cursing at your name.

My head’s a useless thing swishing with sand,

And there’s no castles in it only grumpy crabs,

Click clicking their claws waiting for their home;

But this is a beach without any water,

They could call up a taxi but pay phones don’t exist anymore.

Light shines off your eyes,

But it also shines off this pudding cup,

Which doesn’t make you very special.

(At-least that’s what I keep telling myself)

There’s a river that flows inside all of us,

But mine’s a little stunted by a dam,

That popped up bitterly into existence,

Without any creatures’ assistance.

If I collected all the stars in a paper cup,

Would you still take a tiny gulp,

And tell me that the sugar inside ain’t enough.

I could savor it and take it slow,

Let the cookies bake and not eat the dough,

But sometimes I go a million miles an hour

And my brain is keeling over from always eating raw.

The moment was born from,

A glitch that refused to be fixed,

And lived on pulsating in linings of trembling brains.

Sharp material air clinging to my nose,

Stab stab stab stab stab,

Is this me inhaling in the cold,

Is this the cold inhaling me.

There’s that time of day tinting, 

Everything a special shade of blue.

Dark blue, light blue, medium blue,

Angry blue, happy blue, indifferent blue,

Do you love me blue, why not blue,

What part of me do I get rid of blue.

Every darling savior starts off,

As a gawking spectator that slid,

Bare, pink and raw out of the womb,

Into a room of gawking/darling spectators/saviors.

Open sweetly like a flower,

Close with a loud thud like a book,

Books aren’t very pretty, 

(At-least not physically).

Every ending is a middle child,

The climax and beginning are the eldest,

Sometimes the ending gets left behind at Wal-Mart,

And nobody is the wiser.

My soul is sending smoke signals from the last aisle.

The taste of disappointment is,

Dark ice tea in a 1 liter coke bottle,

Sitting innocently in the fridge,

Just waiting to be sipped.

I miss you like my arms,

Miss a truly hardcore,

Game of red rover.