Wednesday

Unsure of itself, today is stormy, then fine, changing every half hour.
Crows feast on the eyes of the moon, reflected from
muddy puddles of leftover rain;
I feel thoughtful, and lecherous, both.

My sexual fantasies have followed me around today,
leaving the taste of their flesh in my mouth,
and the memory of them dampening my concentration.

The deep passions of half-waking dreams
in the middle of the night, drag me, mermaid-like, beneath a tide of
grey skies and curtains of rain drawing in.

It will be cold tonight, I predict clear skies and burning stars.
As each later hour creeps toward dark, I am
more awake, and less solidly real.
Colours drain from the world outside, through the holes in the sky.

I feel thoughtful, and restless.