Cigarettes In Angel Land

It was cool.
We shared cigarettes,
two cool b^tches together,
sharing and drawing
lip to lip.
We’d never really done
that before, the sharing…
now 3 weeks after our breakup,
a late night awake
sitting together.
So the full moon comes out,
she’s beaming and beaming.
Suddenly we admitted,
we wanted each other —
two cool b^tches together
on that floating night.
If the moon could steal
what were previously
our differences; it did.
Full light obliteration.
And so moments later,
after she kissed my shoulder,
we f@#%ed
and made love —
raunchy, sensual, pining, and sweet

in that pure and breathless
woman to woman way.

Earthling lovers,

worshipers,
attendants,
tending, tending,
moaning.
The moon!

I will always love you.
I believe you know this.

Night Run Syntax

I went to the night
and I wanted to run
further and further
into the star fields above.
Into the past.
Past my own people
and their adoration of
gender and tyrants,
drunk on power,
desperate without it.

For
the people here are slaves
to desperation.

Insignificant in space,
yet precious in form.

How
can we live content
as dust?

How
can we live
and then take
our form again,
in some manner,
some way?

Further and further
into the star fields above,

I lust.
I pray.
I send signals their way.

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin