Death Summer Poem by Ethan Moyer

Hot tireless lucidity,
Grant me your starry hour of
Forget-less night and
Divine teenage evening.

Stars falling like soft
Celestial rain drops,
In to the crimson glasses
Of our reckless minds.
Good sweet ethereal
Wanderer,
Cob-web universes and
Spider galaxies
Running across woven
Starlight clouds and
Chasing her naked ocean
Moon.

I’ve drank my manhood;
Crystallized in my 18th year.
Let time be your waitress.
A broken funeral is upon us.
It’s for my innocence,
No doubt.

Shining,
Wandering,
Take my heart.
You can have it,
Forever.
I’ve already found
My death season.

A dire mistress.
Hanging.