Little whitewash bench glistens in the sun.
Too hot for a day so cold...

Just another teenage trend,
passing on the media breeze...

I hate to play the jealous one,
with her pretty pistole on her head...

These pieces of July
are falling fragrantly around...

Too many emotions,
floating through this space...

Looking back at sunsets on adobe walls,
fishing for dreams in a field of stars...

God, is there something on my skin?
It feels like it...

Big bright red balloons
tethered to the grass...

You're out.
You died...

Dark night, sky like dried blood,
Stars shimmering like shattered tears...

Clouds hang heavy above dew drop trees,
hovering with a prayer for better days...

Dandilion, waving in the wind,
growing tall amongst the green green grass...