Archive ⋙ Poetry
all these dang trees everywhere
can you reach the stars from here where we stand?
you'll have to open your eyes first, and stretch out a hand
and maybe, if you're lucky, the clouds will cede
and the horizon you wanted will be yours to receive
if you mind, can you please pass the milk?
they say, in the outdoors, it tastes just like silk
fine words- but revolting; my stomach churns like a pool
delicacies do not go well with the worries of a fool
what's on your mind? what's going on at home?
have the police caught on yet that we've decided to roam?
I wonder if Mother even cares where we are
or if she's more concerned with the Spectacle, with interviews and news cars
why does the sky have to be blue?
why not gray to reflect a burgeoning city
or green to reflect the mass amounts of trees here
because that seems to be one of the only things here
and more trees.