Beauty (And One Sentence By The Pot-Head Who Woke Her) Poem by J.W. Frogg

Dusty kitty puke and metaphorical eggshells comprise the moat that surrounds our princess whilst she sleeps; our summer honeybee, the sparkler in our lives, with the strawberry shine and sadshine eyes; she dreams, encompassed by a moat which noisily protects her as she rides this snake, this wicked wasteland of forgotten yesterdays and sub-conscience realities; a moat which, when combined with a canine, can supercede any a mother's littler helper; the helper she needs because her mother is no help in the realm of dreams; her mother's plateau extends throughout the territories of hope and belief, casts a shadow down into the town of loneliness, while still keeping an unexplainable presence here in the land of skin and blood, thus pushing our princess, making her strong and weak at the same time, knowing that she now has a stake in the afterlife; a reason to believe and an empty hole with no dirt to fill the void she feels everytime she breaths.