Wet Feet Are Part Of Life

Worry about me later,
for barbarians are coming over the hills,
carrying long pikes and angry words,
searching for reasoning they do not possess.

My sleepless nights are a gene inside me,
melatonin leached from my skin,
my fascination with the moon, my dark monarch
taking flight to greet the lamps lighted.

Slaves to love

Is it not ironic how

Man and woman alike

Assert their independence

But come the time

The two step onto love

They begin to smelt their chains

The step begins to stumble

Smooth hard metal clinked