I was between awake and asleep(usually not a pleasant time for me), but this time, this popped into my head. Either, it's the beginning of something new, or it's part of the poem regarding what are souls are allerigic to. It's rough.
I waxed poetic to the waning moon,
As she closed her eyes to sleep,
And like black ice shut up in my bones,
The darkness began to creep,
Floating on in the void with nothing left,
Only me, myself, and I,
My soul flung open for my inspection,
Underneath the black night sky,
Of course, after scribbling it down, I couldn't get back to sleep. Oh, well.
I fly back to LA, tomorrow.
I wonder how much work is waiting for me. 
I waxed poetic to the waning moon,
As she closed her eyes to sleep,
And like black ice shut up in my bones,
The darkness began to creep,
Floating on in the void with nothing left,
Only me, myself, and I,
My soul flung open for my inspection,
Underneath the black night sky,
Of course, after scribbling it down, I couldn't get back to sleep. Oh, well.
I fly back to LA, tomorrow.
I wonder how much work is waiting for me. VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
too bad out sky scrapers can't look astetically more like the beavers dams.
peace&blessings
juni