Starving Artists

Kelsey Amell
Lying upon glimmering grass-
A meadow of renewed amoebas,
a neverending frolick.
Smiling, we stare up at the stars
and they fall around us
like naked silhouettes dancing upon us
pointing fingers, condemning us.
Still we ignore the way things have changed
We're individual Goddesses.
This is absurd
how the fighting words lie
They flitter, flip, flicker and flit- only to expire.
Whatever happened to the sad man's rapture
as we are once again cast into a heap of sour suffering?
On the roof once again
and their threaths pierce our fears.
Are we going to die this time around? 
They expect us to lay ourselves down right here
where there is no ground.