Here's the text, easier to read... I named it "sun and moon" but really it's "Day & Night".
Written in the time of "Covidian Aesthetics"
Day & Night
Day and night don't sit together
sup together break bread together
or hold hands across the table
as night arrives
day despises her visage
and hurries to leave
and same when day early comes
night sees the grand entry (all arrogance)
and hustles up her books and things
and out the side door
out the back door
she's jumped out the windows before to avoide the tread of nike on the feet of day
and day the same
despising night
never calls
would not write
could care less
glories and sups in her anguish
never trying to be kind
or understand her grief
glad to see her go
stomping just slightly in his step
the swoosh of the boot
self centered and fine
"my rays my rays"
thinks the sun to his-self
as he accompanies day
warming the noble gas of the sky
like a match
at the bottom of a pipe
and night with a harumph
knowing she's right but never willing to say
knowing day has his place
and she can't stay
accepting the dark fate
that she'd never meet day
might never want to
and too-da-loo until tomorrow
i turn my back and go forever
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Here's a piece of art I made, whilst sitting in honor with our "pops" whilst he drew closer to death and was having trouble thinking straight.
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