The Northface on Exposure in Avalon's Wakening

A little bit of tea rests undrunk:
the bugs are waking with the spring
the birds, too, eating them
as the bugs are eating the plants
and the bees will find nectar.

what spring of my tomorrow, rises
i'm smart and funny, but alas
I am alone, single, annealed
or unwanted
a sexy killer with a blue dick
A blue face from praying to God
A blue hand and pants from painting lonely skies.

There is a tomorrow;
There was a yesterday, afterall.
my here and now is material
and existential problems with no solution
Where did all my red roses go

My daisies sit that I bought for myself
Daffodils finally bloom in the garden
The monster of mischief comes with scissors
I water them, but then they're thinned, gone, and given.
What flowers, the sky gone dark with my pining.
I rise, I sleep, I dream awake of tomorrow's tomorrow
A plan of craft and construction and conservation
While my Gods steal all that is money from coffers,
Rewarding me with what he has thieved from mine.

My love broken into rubble has turned blue again
Without acceptance or companionship
Leaving Opportunity to wilt while I wonder way.
There are abundant forests, and fruitful imagination
They graze-like by roadside while one slows for their progress.
Some feathered, some hairy-beasts of four legs,
And some shadowed so heavily by hunger, they eat pavement.

Oh! inspiring messengers of Nature's calling!
Why is coexisting with an Other so fraught with prudence and caution.
And why Must we isolate so as to Love and Share!
Love should not be so confidential, nor sharing so jealously guarded!