October's Only Full Moon Poem by Luce Darwin

My mind is spend
in caring.

The moon's mosaic
is now just only a mess;
A misprint among masterpieces.

Echoes reverberate too loudly
and I flinch away from the noise.

A curious neighbor turning on a light.

October's only full circle of light
dims it's healing rays
as it passes over my skin;
It is sick of my eyes too.

Awake and though passing out
from who knows what,
making me gasp and stare
into our opposing planes,
through translucent orbs
hovering over our heads.

Is this it; the totality of my being;
Added then subtract the sins,
one action to the next
contradicting itself.

There is nothing sacred left in here;
Not since my lungs first breath.