Tiptoe

footsteps weary upon the floor
hardwood boards creak like a hoarse throat
nocturnal, sunless, a habit I can't let go,
since my early youth, I crawl through the darkness,
dreams in the night's atmosphere I harness
hushed to a whisper, I am synced with the whiskers
etching notes, doodles and ideas afloat
they come to life most potently in these quiet hours
here I gain my power, under stars, solitude devoured
till sunrise cracks,
and all I can do is pull the curtains back
laughing at these eyes, so black
and not the iris. 

Obsidiana

sharp edges for correction
refine my vision and intention
kill the drama and pretension
seeking wisdom and redemption

black ball, a mirror into my soul
a journey through a time so bold
a piercing gaze from this potent stone
finds me restless in whatever home

nocturnal energies at midnight born
with the bats i hunt for stories told
in the space between stars, these wings unfold
to feed upon the dreams unsold

its so obvious, what i should do
its so obvious, what i shouldn't do
obsidian obliterating my senses coy
oblivious i am, to the intended ploy

obtaining medicine, of the dark eyed owl
i stare intensively, gently, compassion boundless

this is NOT what it seems
this is not what love is deemed
aesthetically serene
the blood always wipes unclean

the answers are clear
the signs and signals you can hear
the echoes tickle in your ear
the blinding sun drowns out your fear

trust the cradle of the cosmos
never, ever look back.