Sugalite

The moon, the moonYou have never called to me.My sisters yes,but ever to me.That special universalityit was denied to me.Belonging to something,but lacking that common bond...I don't resent it,just envy.

Hot and steamy.Black like tar.I loathe you, what you do to my body.Your taste, so bitter.Bot the way you smell...You fill me with such electricity.I could live without you.But would I really want to?Could I really bring myself to choose to?Our relationship, it posses so many facets.

Purple-Red You hang down. Yet you try to reach for it Always thirsty My delicate friend

Winds change,colours everywhere,going into stasis?Don't know yet.Later in the year,We'll see.

You have to suck it up.There's nothing else to do.You manage, somewhat.Still it's there.You can see it like an outside observer.But you don't know how to bloody fix it.Bugger someone taking care of you.It will just feed it.Make you feel worse.If you just had a little more...You'd set about fixing it.but...So you brass it out.What you always do.

You were in the club once. Long before Pluto.Even before, you survived the worst of the worse.Now I see you for the first time.

I blame you, but I understand. It's survival instinct, self interested, lacking scope and farsightedness. How will it end... Rationally? Probably not. Still... Windmills. Hope is Windmills.

Dead things. Scratches and chisels. Mostly gone but some remain. I'm not connected to them, but... I'm drawn to them. Ponderous things. My own past is not accessible to me.

Stone mostly though a flash of emerald I melt