It seems you must not only tolerate the ugliness of the world, you must cynically plan for it while wearing a smile.
a part of myself gone away
somewhere cold and alien
the moon (distant, cold, the moon)
it was (still) attached,
so far away
there are feelings too large to fit in the body
they break it into pieces
drunk, in the rose garden
eyes bright with pain
eyes dull with pain
buried like a treasure, like love
I want my heart to reflect the sun,
burned chemical white,
glowing with a different kind of pain.