The moon performs a waltz
with the stars flickering
to my rhythmic wallowing
over the quiet secrets
that blacken the real estate
under my eyes.
With my disjointed forefinger
I draw an invisible path
the devil follows
off my collapsed mattress
and out a haggard door.
Do not return,
my beautiful afflatus;
I have squeezed
the thesaurus dry, and
thoughts are beginning
to repeat themselves.
How many times
must I write this sentiment?
A hard won sleep overcomes;
the morning dew
pollinates the greener grass,
the newborn sun
makes cotton candy
of the optimistic clouds.
The coffee smells of equations,
the birds recite Mozart
atop trees hugging the stillness.
I inhale the positivity
riding the winds
since the most ancient times,
I exhale another mislead night
and begin to sing,
\"Goodbye, stranger.
It\'s been nice.\"