Shine On Long Gone Poem by Princess LilyPad

There was a sick moon that hung lame outside my window. And i chatted it up one night after a tumbler of gin. Just in case that moon could see me. What if something was up there and found me! This nothing girl, a ragged, miniscule humanoid girl somewhere out there in this world not yet easily identified on earth as existing or within a flurry of dizzying animation. Oh, if that big cheeze ball up there could find me! me! I'd pull on my old brown shoes and climb the tumbling ladder up onto it's crater plated back to dwell in the validity and make his laziness become giddy lovely craziness...i swear i just saw a real life living moon and it winked once upon a minute straight at me.

Oh yes, i think it's so! So stumbling up, wobbly and punch drunk, I reached out and grabbed the moon’s nightcap to swing about on. And The sliver moon just laughed. In it's space on stars sang clarity and I could fill my lungs with stars that would simply burst out of my chest in giggles and starbursts, skittles and surely this was not iniebriation but celebration. Swinging akin to being shot out of a cannon windswept as I orbited what astronomers could only perceive as a miraculous anomaly. As that crusty old once lazy grinning moon, well, it then shined on me like a crazy supernova. Head to toe I was illuminated. Diamondlike. Beautiful.

But alas, as my paste laden eyelids greeted the morning sun violating me through a forgotten shutter neglected and wide open...wake up star girl. It’s time to come back. And as I approach for reentry I just burst into flames. Flames that turn on me and burn on me. A sickness that seems to riddle me with internal bleeding lesions. No hangover feels more ferocious. Sober I just seared my connection to celestial beings. Waking up now. Why always the fire, burning me out of joining the fresh and secure atmosphere that for you is abound and for miles and miles all about you?

Stumble to be bathroom and dare to peer at my likeness now...after my head re emerges from under the rusty faucet as i gulp copious amounts of dirty sink water because look, my damn mouth sticks to itself and my tongue is rough like beef jerky. In the reflection, I’m disappointed how small i radiate. a pin point on an ants patchwork quilt. Just turn the knife and scoot along. Your day here on earth it waits.