The Last Poet/The Beautifullest thing in the world

see trees of a wasteland as beautiful as a goddess
The river flows like acid through veins
A leaf flows down the river caught in a current of life
My art is my eyes
Day
Eyes like two suns inflamed and burned
Night
Eyes like two moons dark and grey
The concrete of a jungle layed to rest
I see imperfection everywhere in a world of perfection
An analyst of imperfection
Angels this low that never fly this high
Words perfect through it all
The leaves sway like god is riding the wind
The outline of birds in the distance my marker
The horizon the knifes edge cutting the sun into the moon
Water is the eternal bliss of fools
Golden skies washed into oblivion
Planes of grass cutting the earth
The one beautiful thing left
Mysterious that she even exists in front of me
My eyes vexed between the sun and the moon
A glass shard of a tear drop
The ground cracking beneath my heart
Open your hands to create one
Bleed my breath while I die
Insert life here
Blank canvas with writing on it
Golden blonde hair in the wind
Like a flame shooting across the blue sky
Her heart is my heart
Withstand the pain and be the one
Painstaking the last thing beautiful to exist in this world is my eyes