laden moonlight emerges
through the forest green and
gracefully dances
amid the shimmering shoal
of the pond that sits before me

i ponder nothing and yet
everything that should have ever mattered
to her agitating soul
faith? what had she doubted
in her last unfathomable inquiry?
where was she coming from?

chaos invites me into
its cradling haven and
raven strands of tedious hair
wrap around my crooked fingers

brown eyes gleaming simply of...
my absence 

what the fuck did she expect?


"i don't know what i believe in and that's the truth. read my poetry... i believe in whatever i write blindly about." -- Robert Anderson