tending the tender gardens of secret surrender

i wear my
disbelief pulled
tightly around
my shoulders
to give shelter
from the elements
to the nigh quixotic
innocence of
my technicolor

the world is
so barren and ugly
lashing out
in the petulance of
permeable despair
yet deep inside
these catacombs
where hope dissolves
into hopelessness
i tend a secret
garden with the
geysers of pure
intoxicating love
untarnished by
dark skies overhead

a miserly cloak
of shifting sorrows
staggering blindly
through crowded streets
a tin cup shaking
as i beg for coin
in exchange for
dreametchings cast
in acidic need
my vagabond soul
leaving a scattered trail
of ink stained kisses
to blanket the seas


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