Sonnet #8

Beauty glistens, radiating from the depths of her blue lagoon,

Solidifying the connection established between us in ways unknown,

To ones who don't dwell on the moon.

The dim light brings out her perfection, and in an instant my mind is blown.

When the midnight hour comes, we lay lucid, dreaming,

Of far away lands with far less corruption.

Inside, my mind is screaming,

Yet on the outside, I await my abduction.

She infiltrated my soul and imprinted her royalty on my mind,

So much that within its wall, she is all that I can find.

Genuinely curious, I flee states of pretention,

Which pressure one's being into faking a response.

I do not put on a mask to get her attention,

But her attention is all that my heart wants.

Cigarettes

Cigarettes, to those unaware of the addictive necessities they carry, are a deadly drug, but we are not addicted, we just enjoy the aroma of their cylindrical walls and the taste of the substances trapped inside of them. The inner wallpaper of these cancer sticks is mesmerizing in ways eerie to the blind eye. I know, for once, I too bled at the revolting appearance and scent of tobacco. As I write this, nicotine travels through my arteries, putrefying my blood; some say that it poisons me, and that I pay for my own inevitable demise, but even children are aware of death, and I choose to go out smiling.

Missed!

Her eyes moisturized by salty tears,

Distract him from the sobs he hears,

For she's neglected by her peers,

Waiting patiently till this storm clears.

But havoc occupies her life.

Her best friend takes on the form of a knife.

Her father just murdered his wife.

Welcome to this poor girl's life.

Blood oozing out of her red slits.

This loaded gun smiles at her as it sits,

Right next to her on the floor. It fits,

So perfectly in her hand. Missed!