I watched the darkness;
dissolving, morphing, quickly
receding from the fruity light,
as if rejected medicine.
Left behind for an identical,
obliviously tranced away in a hospital,
grants my stained naked feet,
to walk among these blistering tracks.
A young warrior once inside me,
stains my fierce cheeks; blackberry blood.
Ready for a pretend war,
within my swollen heart.
Passion releasing like a narcotic mist,
with every shattered shivered bottle broken,
is similar to the red leaking, trickling from my goose bumped knees,
caused by the annual thorn bush races.
The summer of a reckless railroad,
bear-trapped between innocence and knowledge.
I am a child of the identical sensations,
of joy and pain.
I am a child of,
my own titillations.