steadfast, brutal even

endearing, a spine – reaching outwards,

touches the moon empty from longing

to be an inferno radiant

then blends in with the night sky, of hollowed

out suns distant, unflinchingly cold,

like wisdom spurned, mocked, trampled

while the chill begins in the bones, then travels

to jaded worlds where euphoria deflates, punctures

sinks to low hanging clouds gray, gloomy, dark

from webs unspun, revealing a chimera whose leap

dashed away the last silver lining –

landing on hot coal, my foot threads on the painful,

the sour, the squashing of lungs from too much pressure

till the fog, clouds, intricate layered distortions become

transformed. unable to withstand fire, the only thing left is truth.

and it wasn’t jaded,

it wasn’t an empty moon.

there i found bits and pieces of myself – real.