Full of Stars, Stars, Stars

Full of stars, stars, stars some jolly and some not in July which is seven in revers and seven is only a dog making half-moons in the promise of a fuller sky of the night or life full of rollers and coasters going up coming down screaming loyalty and the stars above – songs that you listen to over and over again, songs that make you cry about valleys and coffee where strings of violins cry, cry, cry and make you cry oh why and how could someone make something sad so beautiful so full of life what life should be so full of tears in eyes and you do not blink lest a droplet should roll off your eye a line of wet paint on your cheek that you try to hide dry, dry, dry grassland of a faraway world occasionally wet on dreamy mornings of dreams grazing cows mooing moving you out of your bed when songs repeat and move you, move you, move, move, move you with random words picked out of a hat with little strips of a broken dream from Latin American lands of Spanish Espanola just because you know what means what a word or two with lace gowns and ribbons around necks socks high thigh moles on upper lip yellow shirts pistons and little thin strips of underground next level beard before songs repeat yet again one more time bitter coffee for sisters who close their doors who shouldn’t ideally be doing them at least for fathers who teach them blade-throwing and they wouldn’t definitely like their acting skills and this is something a sister should know at the minimum – the basic knowledge of a danger from far away like a line from a song sung differently incorrectly with different, better words