Albinos are fortunate
for everything they view is
through rosy eyes.
Every star a fuschia firefly.

Cardiologists are dumb
for everything they do is
cuing Cupid
to shoot, lose, get prosecuted.

I cannot deny the fact
that fireworks are applauding us back.

Neon stretchmarks damasking blackened heavens
Capture more than our blind eyes, as destined.

Stick by me, I’m your marquee.
Negative skies press astronomy’s tongue.
A language written, not yet ridden.
A solar love forbidden, erased before dawn.

Nocturnal passion sends bipedal waves crashing
And like the artists we are, we begin to draw.

Cadavers are fortuitous,
for blinking is so needless.
All things seen, but never felt;
Every word an inky welt.

I cannot deny the fact
Lightning is God taking photographs.

Unmanicured shards of shattered matter, spanning forever.
Becoming stairs for flying feet, forcing us to endeavor.
Stick by me, I’m your marquee.
Negative skies press astronomy’s tongue.

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