I Won’t Ever Land on the Moon

it’s somewhere deep sounding in the darkness of the search light 
where as a waif i sail as an unfeathered untethered kite
caught in the winking eye of a secret storm of miracles 
dropping down from ever descending decreasing pinnacles 
looking at the world as if it were becoming real again 
i’ve seen why the pallid frightened moon stays numbed to feel sane 
comes a time when looking at the ceiling 
becomes a drunk inverted hour glass feeling 
cause now I’m funnelling towards the floor as nose bleed sand 
yeah the worlds a balled up fist not an open helping hand 
there’s the moon and then there’s me and never the twain
but i know we both hide when ever it does rain

©bg 2013


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