As the sun begins to sink slowly in retreat the daylight shows the sun bleeding through dark glasses made to shield sensitive eyes from it. A smile spreads across ones face for the future lies in the birth of the night. Waiting, drinking in toast to it's death and not even thinking about it's resurection. The air is heavy with excitement of gatherings and festive moods spread like disease.The cars all rolling back and forth like toys searching for that special something, or someone. Yes, we all celibrate the death of the sun here. In summer it is of complete devotion. No slackers for the festivals. Thunderous music and shouts of amusement and amazement surround us all.The cans lay in crumpled piles where pavement once claimed it's right and we begin to dream of the fires of the night.In this next journey there will, as always be no aim in general to get to a point. Just more shows of misery and even the few happy moments that make up life. Let the birth of the death of day begin: A match. The red rose, and the Bloody sunset. holding the rose outlined by fire and even with the sun. twins unseperable at birth. The thornes hurt and honesty is real so when handed it do not lie. Known is the feeling of friendship and smiles but this flower your handed means life for the wilted. It is time of your essence you that brought this gift. while the festival continues. Blood reflecting off the pavement, in waves, as we roll down the highway. my love my filled open arms takes flight on birth of next day. to blue oceans, for her blue eyes, she will go. though it is not permanent, i sob like a child, for feeling's i know, it feels like the end. blood stains the horizon, as i hold her heart to me. heat from the day slowly slipping away. now one must await the wait, with warmth in thy arms... black smoke on the horizon...it covers the sunset with all our fears. up in the air goes the prospects of money and the helicopters fly on. fools gold anyway for all there is to say..... the summer breeze blowing across the mind forces a reliving of betrayal. the stomach turns and butterflies turn to bats with fangs. god..why do you play these games? he asks. the picture before him catches the tear in a splash. quickly he wipes it off. it is both gold and a pit of spikes now. stuck...there is no way off this porch of nails. no way to put the photo away. talking to paper with so much to say. the sinking sun takes his heart to the bottom of the sea.... why the haunting ghosts that rob sleep of its warm embrace on thee? why the faces that come before thee like a judge and his criminals. or..like the man before a jury to be judged. so much contact with so few realitys. why rob the poor man of all he has? why rob him even if he is deserving? only an ending makes a begining. the jury is deadlocked and the judge got drunk. give back the embrace of closed eyes...its time.... blood on the horizon in fall all forgiven from my own fall... left on a wing and i prayed returned on a prayer and i got winged... pain and its brothers circled thy weary head... in the bright lights of some lonlie football night she returns to the rotten apple that became of me in her absence... why? eyes say but no words are spoken.. the pain is gone but it is a revolving door to return in thy face again and again.. common sense is cheating as was the heart held so dear... why cant these eyes focus mornings so sober they claw at the vision.. who wants to face this today? who wants to stay far away? cold is the shower fake smiles and stares... take another elevator up the top holds no memory only the ride up and the fall down... and the landing is a beating no one forgets.... MY GUESTBOOK NOW WORKS...PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO SIGN IT...NIGHTPOET
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