Earache

hollow
like a gourd or a drum
echoing inside my head
reverberating gong of pain
dull yet growing
air suddenly so heavy
as the pillow hits

The Creative Current

well run dry
so that the bucket brings only sand
still I try to drink it
gulping rocks and wishing them diamonds
that my thoughts could make them shine
sparkle with wit and charm
dust bowl of the muse

Strange Partners

unrelated facts

yet they clamor in my skull

full of dips and twirls

dancing with no clear reason

until I can't stand the noise

by anonymous

anonymity
just another face in the crowd
with no repercussions
so you can spout beauty or poison
indiscriminately
because who can stop you?

sweeping honesty from your lips
you can tug the heart strings
let my thoughts provide the guise
seeing someone I know in your confessions
building a backstory you don't have
to match the way I feel

or hatred like blood on your fangs
dripping with judgment
unending faults under your microscope gaze
cowardly attack from behind closed doors
building you a sympathetic past
to match the way I feel

Riches From Heaven

the moon bright like a silver coin
I can pluck from the ebony sky
imagining smooth relief and ribbed edges
speeding along the highway
knowing that over the next hill
I will finally see the other side
where this disc fastens to the firmament