Mon Vert

In the distance There were two horses Racing across  My grainy vision But I could swear I saw you On the white one Blending with the sky Eagerly I ran Towards you Making a path Of flat grass And heel  The wet mud It was a collision of sorts The rain on my face The cacophony of noise The loudness That brings about The earthly images Of the intense azure You were heading  Inside the forest The same place I lost you In the knots  Is the heart  tied loosely To my desire I was becoming forgetful To jumping in  The overflowing river Its intent stare Of luring me in A storm, Told me the heavens are coming down, told me The angels were waiting To pull me in.

  He hugged me dearly his body askew He knelt  His body rather big Became soft And tender His words became whispers And clear That the rain found Silence In the stones, Theres was something young In his eyes left in his aging body.

  The leaves fall down in slow tragedy When the teacher leaves The bells ring To catch my breath we are praying I am looking at you In your melodies To catch your eye In the pause My heart skips A leap This odd thing.

  In the fraction of maths And half- eaten pies The deep cuts made by knives the jam sticking in stark white Plates green-striped coats and cream colored undershirts The contrasting blue against a black cat pitchers standing against the sky as tiny droplets scurry To cotton cloths And cuffs against  A hand There are signets over smiles Their popularity When sails are coming to shore As the white man steps to take the boat The tired boy sits on the steps As he sees the ocean sink With the sun at the balcony  I watch his cheeks turn to red Then his lashes  Twinkle with sweat he wants to leave The ankles speak When they stand as his palm briefly touches the Sand to his shirt To his back he pries it off While beginning to walk Then slowly He turned his face up And smiled  "Hey!" He wore a charm "Hi" Now I see his eyes Without shadows The curls go into way It was scenic green his eyes are almost like the moss The grass after the rain "What are you doing there?"...

  The world is approaching us And there is a big bloat Near the shore Like a huge wave is coming towards Our feet That will sway us Unanticipated Oh I am going to the stars The dark is dancing within They say feelings are never final My, Endings may feel eternal But there will be letters for that Today it is almost midnight And lamplights can be mistaken For the moon Drunken days are gone The skies are clearer I am whole.

  Ah the coldness always gets to me The bluntness of walks My drive in sharp turns The grasses go flat In every step And I will head down the path To take consequence About terrors And nervous laughs The glint Their faked plurality And I will sit stiff While they talk about virtue in low seats I am holding my head While stones continue pouring Out from the room With shine The floors are needlessly Shining Surprisingly, I am reminded of wooden boards Like of My scrambled eggs are starting to smell home.

the small things will always be appreciated in kind innocence its slow descent  the heart where I feel the earth calm  in the things that make us human this immediate tang in seasons we are vibrant colors in hope then there is no tiredness in being full that dreams become leisure in a stocked pantry the open air the mountains where creaks crawl deeply our names etched into our skin that bruises will only be meaningful as well as our cheeks will be noticeably flushed like a green apple with a red spot, when we will run after the rain every time the day becomes gray, we will be warm so that braveness becomes only a thing about love.

Setting away over the hot plate of cement on my back my white shirt was perfectly  blue Looking at the sky I was waiting for it to pull me in It was easy when the ocean is carried behind its sea of clouds  In the minute where I took the warmth from my back There was a plane about to go over me and I thought if it had been so near the wind would've dared taken me away.

  The silence trusts you to see When everything becomes noticed we drown in  its perfection.

It is the morning of dread The calling of Christmas And the bells tolling Like an alarm My skirt has risen up to my belly Crumpled collars And a heavy head I am dead again like a sack to a bin I am full of things But I see infront of me A door frame closing in Shoes entering The shopowner was looking at him I could see from here The money peeks from the counter In large bills It was the look of green Like a fresh vegetable sprayed on with water You would know it could tell you great things About Christmas The busy days were coming Again Soon the lady living in the Where I could see her balcony at the top of my head knobs are heard to be turning And a cigarette comes to view She had a lovely hand it makes it hard to move And look away So in the lump that was too heavy The ash eventually rained on me Like shining stars But all things from the sky When they come to us Are lies they turn to dark So I woke again and when I opened my eyes I could only...

  It must be adored when the caves echo And the waters run quietly, You were dancing With the swans within the patches of long grass Is a tickle of the wind The song of the wasps Wherein the blues are emanating, I can see the lines You were Lighter than heaven In the water It was almost night And I was cold But I see in the nest of birds That I am with them Wanting to fly By the next dawn In my restlessness I took the last hour To seek you in the dark Sitting in the pavement Your eyes were caught In the mist It glowed  But I was looking at you first.

Two slices of bread Is facing towards us Even though The altar had been placed Infront The heavens feel nowhere near The Loudness of my fallen rosary Its ends draped  I am sick Looking at the same image In the white sheets It is irksome It makes a stark difference That I could feel growing hotness At the back of my neck, Like it had ignited a candle telling me to find the words I would not want to utter It is like that feeling of the beast trying to take a bite of that bread, inside a small shell of a body, a speckle crawling outside the ridges of a plate I am finding it more beautiful under the yellow glow It makes us all look sick, but things endearing, more of that, it makes cheap things look like gold Why do I find it so far away it makes a distinct look of delight but leaves distaste in my mouth Emptiness is patient My waiting  Late I was told prayers make the untruth be true.