Long ago, I fell from a tree top whisking its hair to fire; I couldn't help but to stay,

Ashes became hurricanes chasing the blind clouds, and I thought it was nice that ashes went somewhere too,

It was raining stars that night, I was so sleepy, but I wanted to be under the stars forever,

I never thought of him being so...hmm...but I did like the feeling of his hand on my shoulder,

August, my favorite summer month, I wish I never had to go to school,

My motivation was the stars, and him, wow, how bizarre that is,

That tree burnt down pretty fast, it doesn’t matter though, does it? Besides, I'd have never met him,

I still have fond memories of that tree though…

Jace, junior soccer league player and a great one at that, was blessed with the kick of sir Jecht. He was always remembered by the coach for his supreme magnetic abilities to attract crowds and fans like butterflies to a newborn flower, though more like hungry tigers to an impala’s carcass. Spade hair shining under the shaded sun of Chicago’s vast windy plains; on the sidelines awaiting his time to shine on the field, as always, he knew he was a star. So the day ended, the sun set and the cicadas were crying for him to return, but he was consumed with his own dreams, as he lay in his navy blue/yellow sheets. What was he thinking, the cicada’s thought, perhaps when the sun would rise, or how many more suns he would rise to see? Or see the rising moon that only they could feel? Another wondered what was on his mind, across the windy land and down the Mississippi.

With each whisper from a face with no painted frown, a long gone mother was now a painting hanging on a lonely wooden wall with a host of mimicking friends. Loner lovely poet Qlon lon, he was up on his roof throwing meek smiles at the frogs that croaked at his strange attire. Clouds set in over his head threatening to hail down on his hazel eyes looking back for an answer to a question that confuses even the fake gods of justice; where would he find his shining ribbon to a bridge connecting him to the part he lost as a starving virgin. Swimming around in a marshmallow soup bare of the filler for love known as savage angry sex, that is what he direly searched for, and found only a feast of dirty men just looking for an ass to cram there sweaty cocks up into. He basked in it on one level and the other level fell down the Mississippi, along with meaning, care, life, hope, confidence, and perhaps love. Louisiana was hard on him; there were thousands (more unfortunate in some terms) sitting on the side roads barking with hopeless yelps towards strangers. At least they still had their souls. Lon had only his pen, his guitar, and his mothers small Louisianan home, far in the forest a town or two above Baton rogue. It was lonely, but he wouldn’t know how to mend that, it was a lonely world, and he was just a part of it.

He was walking down the stairs of his room, high noon, out already to practice with all his diligence. Though a little farther he figured couldn’t hurt today, the farther the better. The sun flickered down on his exposed shoulders like radar seeking lustful aid, his calves pulsating to his limber kicks and bunts. He was hoping dearly that Donna wouldn’t catch him up at this time practicing. Jace lives at a residential in Chicago, for reasons not well known by even most staff members that worked there, such as the very lesbianic, Donna. Jace sat up top a great willow tree one hundred and fifty yards or so away from the closed doors of his prison. Wondering why he had to be trapped here, he had never done anything. He pressed his supple chest against the trunk of the tree and slid down youthful arms wrapped cozily around the tree, he touched the ground, “What did I do!?” Jace whaled the soccer ball as deadly as a Leviathan into the tall brick wall of his only home. Donna peered secretly out the window, her fried and over teased hair would certainly fall out if she ever dared to brush it. She always went against the normal staff dress code and dressed in a slightly sleazy red cocktail dress. Even the way she wore her makeup, to most people she would appear to be a happy drag queen, but with her thin smile placed poisonously on her face, it always led people to realize she was something far more sinister. Jace was groped by the arm and thrust into the building where his ‘level’ of freedom in the building was restricted to his room. Again a sigh at his nigger roommate, how disgusting to have to sleep near, he thought.

“Just a whisper on the lake and a few foul plays, fore plays, on the stage, where some plays were real. I sat in my little canoe, thinking to myself what tomorrow had to bring, there sat streams of irony reflecting the story of falling stars. The story went like a crack pipe bubbling under sea snake waters’, sniping my neck with a kiss that felt more like a bite. It was sweet like hands defiling my misshapen body, deemed hermaphroditic by the young ones that I really craved, and the unfortunate ones who sat somewhere on the river raped and depraved. How long is the wait to the other side, soon it would all subside…soon I would go under a big brown bridge like a banner that announced my arrival, maybe like a friend or lover that I hoped it would give” Qlon lon mused on his way up the Mississippi, on a large steam boat to the northern winds he fantasized about. The water wasn’t beautiful, more of a tacky green color that wept in the mid summers heat. Qlon lon, had thrived for a long while as an independent student, till he hit high school his mother always taught him. The change was too much, though Lon had always known h’ed wanted to be with the rest of them, at the same time he knew he’d be lost within them, simply oblivious. Still battling a lingering depression, since childhood, he now was able to suppress most of the not so great memories he had. He was a muse, a dreamer, a thinker if you will. He thought about cicadas, and they thought about him back, and he thought about his carnal thirst unfading and unsatisfied, he would have to resort to some sorry man there that could sooner care less anyways. So the night went by with a ‘thump’ and a ‘hump’ in the night…The bugs were loud too.