What a Darkness It Is

I. What a darkness it is, that as the planets rotate miracles with cosmic power bestowed, The Fall of Lightbringer deadens the bleeding branches in Spring as a requiem masked by your skin paints onto the sun in a cloudless sky The Stranger. II. What a darkness it is when laughter lark detonates atom bombs in your heart and you join me in my scarlet fever, gazing thoughtlessly at a rainbow stream of cars holding minds that also fear tomorrow and are synced with Soundtracks for the Blind underneath the sun in a cloudless sky in April. III. What a darkness it is, melting chocolate promises on concrete; the promises of Locke Cole I cannot keep streaming from a destitute human Roc crippled beyond silencing waves in starless space, smashing the guitar, he cannot fake it anymore from a bleached sun in a cloudless sky on Cape May. IV. What a darkness it is to manually delete from your cyberspace the immortal morning dew of a once eternal friendship, for we all know that those imprinted souls linger in our own, impossibly carved into reaches metaphysical, especially when your favorites coalesce, reminders constantly following like the sun in a cloudless sky to nowhere