Night and Tomorrow

Night is when to be alive the most
Mystery fleas provide no requested service
Sorry to the most venerable host
The face of the ghastly ghost
raises one hand to the moon
which has no eyes nor rosy cheeks
no bulbous nose
A holy wafer, unsatiating crisp,
merely pointed at
The other arm a horizontal roadblock,
fallen trees, cautionary lines, surmountable boundaries
yet never crossed
This is the hour to be alive the most
A perfectly made bed and long to-do lists
Eyes glaze over clutter, magnets in fingertips
assemble fragments into wholes
then dismantle and start all over
Over and over and end
A game often played of holds and heads
It’s the most favoritest pasttime of dualists
who pray before bed

Black Holes

Critical eye says I’m a pretty girl
A perfectly kissable face that seems
So out of place on a body like mine

Seeing stars and chest pounding
All due without the trauma
And I’ll do, per the usual
You can think critically and breathe easily
When trust is not so far away

Close your critical eyes
Are you spinning
Are you falling
Do you like it or are you afraid

Is the end getting closer or is it getting farther away?