When She was Young

The woman's lips are stained, lips are stained
Red from nervous blood peeling,
Dry and rusted against her
Old lips, old lips
She pulls a soft cigarette to her face
and takes a small drag
Her fingernails stained dark
For those years of viciously
inhaling, inhaling her nicotine
She laughs at her razor
worn and rusted
Like her face, her lips
She hasn't cared since she was twenty
But the moon and stars
shine on her, shine down low
With the mimic of the sad, flickering, dusty street lamp
As she sits swaddled in a blanket
cold and damp
and smiles at the time before
When she was young

WHAT IS BEAUTY?

A girl can be beautiful without being pretty
She can be quiet and content
Sometimes all it takes is a smile
Simple and broad.
It turns a girl from a sullen, even absent minded creature
Into someone one might say
'Now there, there's a girl who loves living life'
A confident girl is scary
She's mysterious when you want her to be frail
You invent reasons why she's like this
But they never amount to
Why she is the way she is
A cocky girl is terrifying
She turns even the loveliest features into dust
Until shes right with reality again
A Godly girl should be feared
Feared and treasured above all others
Because she is the only one that will last

Stolen Freeway Flowers

We drive for a while
Hopes of San Diego in our eyes, our sight
As we smoke out windows
The car begins to mimic cruelly
God twists us in his tight fingers
With Sovereignty of God water in our clutches
We swim to beat the current of the passing freeway
No cars snarling behind us, We are free
Lift the hood to find eyes of flame
Put out, Put out
And we smoke again
The bridge of the freeway shakes us like the smoke
From the car and the sticks between our fingers 
We could have been an explosion
The cars wizz by and we
Sit waiting as the city drons on
Picking at stolen freeway flowers