Forging Dear Doctor's Prescription

What does it mean to be alone?
The sole soul of your kind in the
bleak backdrop of the universe?

One glove hides my heart I used to
show on my frayed sleeve. It used to
beat with an abundance of love,
of happiness, of beauty,
of whatever humans hold dear.

A solid day of sleep, unbroken by
the trivia of eductaional values.
The Sun and Moon become one
great candle, glowing eternally.

No amount of veils and scarves can
blot out this spot of pure radiation.

I have became nocturnal, feeding off of
scraps of yew tree sap and
the eerie resin of moonbeams.

I rise from my grave nightly to consume
pills of ochre, green and blue
to bring the black tide to me
as if I were the Moon myself.

The true Moon laughs at me,
his shadowy, single nostril
all white dust and craters of
teenagehood.

What white tulip shirks the very
ether of the midnight realm!
It is attacked by greenfly sent by
the Lord of Time.

No paternal figure I have now,
he has dissolved in the vodka
glass the Sun left in her wake.

Doctor, I hold my twinned hearts
for you. Empty and futile, I realise
such attempts are sectionable.

Alien matter, terrestial matter,
none of it matters when the
bonewhite light of night and the
grave redness of day melt.

All the rubbish of graves capsize
in the rising tides and I feel the
temptation of time travel bore down again.

What worlds will I see in my head?
Capture me, Doctor, give me
medicine to forget the Sun and the Moon.
Give me the strength to see tomorrow
with all the happiness I stole
yesterday.

I actually like it.
It's pretty cool
Great Job!

Wow. This is incredible, awesome, beautiful.

Perfect.