I sit, head back and neck aching
Feet naked and fire blazing
Watching the sky;
Satellites out on the darkness just grazing
And I pick the stars out, it’s amazing.
I find them so beautiful,
Littering the picture, small spots bursting
And patterns of mandalas and faces
And shapes and traces of magic
Lace the black places of clearness…
More reveal themselves every second
I’m drunk on beauty, yes I’m wasted.
I rest with my neck in right angle and observe all the stars
That in the past I haven’t appreciated
And in the dusk, it dawned on me
That the sky is like my skin; first clear then dots replaced it.
I shrouded in hideous insecurity,
Picked my cheeks in the mirror, deprecated all of me
Lathered on all kinds of fixes and creams
Hoping for clear skies
When thunder seemed the only weather
My forehead needs
I seethed like lighting, bolted from trying
To be comfortable in my flesh
And exciting thoughts of death
Because I was told summer’s pale blue,
With iridescent sparkle and shine
Was better than the winter’s flocking beaches of blemish
That seemed to be all mine.
I’m lost in the dark’s glory.
Following the ancient stories
Of star tracking, tracing
All of history in my chin,
My third eye and my cheeks.
One day these photos of me
Will be looked upon lovingly,
Stared at with all the stars burning;
I think my skies are turning.
By Lyric Deep.