“I. This is the dream again. You are on me like a hundred thousand different drops of rain. I am naked and you’ve slit my spine down the middle so my soul stops sneezing from all this damn dust. II. Tonight is a holy kiss and every dreamer is a priest. My religion is in skin and poetry and making love with my eyes closed underneath the moonlight, but I still sit in churches and pray when someone I once held hands with dies during the night. III. Some of our wishes are making the sky throw up stars into empty craters. IV. The moon, is just a hundred thousand moths about to take flight. When they’re gone, oceans will sink. Atlantis will rise and their people will tell us, laughing, of the great parties that we’ve missed, of how Davey Jones is a fucking riot, and how the anglerfish line the walls in the evening to set the mood for lovers’ midnights. V. My favorite thing to do is drink with you until we’re both crawling up each other’s limbs to see if we can reach the skyline. The night is a hundred different kinds of light. The sun rises, and my soul burrows underneath your skin until the moths spill white dust over our palms again. ”