MOONBEAM

like how I need her night

to light up my day;

like how she’d need a while,

she won’t come this way

why don’t you see her out?

there’s no fashion in disgrace;

cashing in

on the fall within,

on everything sustained

it’s better to be than not to be…

what’s with the white

when it’s time and only time?

what would this given do

if I can’t live my line?

and what’s her moonbeam

but a comfort to the eye?

a blessing in disguise,

when I’d rather see her naked;

her naked love tonight…

For all intents and purposes, this could be my experiment, which in itself gives it the innate value that it's one of my best ever. Not saying that as a flash of ego, it's just that it's something of a kind that I've wanted to write for so long, you know, like the 'starting in the middle' or the absence of relevance of any sort. And yeah, I know this is proving to be too much of pathos, but I don't know... I am what I am, and that's like 'everyone else' minus the pretence.

'Battle Studies' belongs to the Mayer lot. I guess that's how this belongs to my 'Book of Rhymes'. Tenth in line.