Window Moths

Moths come to my window to bounce and flutter

I want nothing that reminds me of pandemonium

Mimicry, is the echoed call, which distracts the future

I understand black and white; so let the colors run away

Never needed any brilliance to mark my path

Someplace in the folds of a jacket near a crumpled paper

Is quartz, which I will not find, until I am elsewhere

Monster at my Nape

Only in the gilded lands,

does sometimes the idiot become wise

Then decide,

that wisdom is too heavy,

and recede away with the waves

Only within a life of comfort,

can the fickle, wax and wane

The self-imposed hardship,

teaches nothing, but delusions

To those who play destitution

as some hobby,

dancing happily with poverty

While the rest of us sleep,

with it’s rotten breath on our nape

Simply twirling with terror,

does not mean you know its name

Or the scrape of its claws on your chest

As it embraces you