Moons of ecstasy revolving,
Fading in and out of black...

At first,
my heart was rent with pain...

I guess this is the end,
I pray to God that there is more...

I'm out,
I'm dead...

Come talk to me
as soon as you're clean...

Lights are flashing by
and horrible sounds...

This is my 945th poem,
and sadly, it'll be my worst...

An angel of doubt
hidden deep inside of a cloud...

Every fiber
every string...

The Weather Man's an optimist,
he hides the umbrella well...

There is just this certain thing about you
the little things you do...

On a moonlit night
summer begins to fad away...