Urban Design and the Need for Absinthe

She had neon red nails,
He could dream in her eyes.
That dreams u can’t own, is
A fact rarely known,
When he harnessed them one day,
Came the lies, the goodbyes.


She kept the neon red nails.
But bit her lips before she talked.
Smoky was her past tense,
The green fairy promised more sense,
Downwards she was rising,
And imagine how surprising,
To see the clouds compromising,
One day to hide her absence.


A neon red non-existence.

high there!

from the top of the lake to the bottom of the tree
i can see
the big bad wolf came for you
sniffed for you
but chose me
instead


in bed
i wept
and held my kitty fat paws close
the sun rose
and my woes were washed away
with the fresh smell of the clay
in the damp color of the grass it lay


awaiting the calf to nibble it from its stem
and though the feeble clouds passed
they left the air moist
with tears from all around
surrounded by sorrow
i found

i could stop trying
enact surviving
the go getter
will feel better
without highs
and white lies.


because though sorrow is over rated it might
tomorrow be berated
and glum faces are not pretty
petty, you will say
but them you wouldn't have dated!