stray blue light slipping in from the decaying backyard, & our bodies are still aglow in the brooding cusp of the dark. walls crumbling apocalyptically against lullabies of peeling plaster. our heads hung low in our hands. another night ripped out of the pages of an old fairytale, aching for snow.
your skin the utterance of a prayer, my mouth bending down your disciple, nights like this the wolves conduct a forbidden waltz & we sweep all our doubts under the old rug with its filigree suns & moons.
when the fireflies stir, it’ll be an orchestra for the wounded, & something like magic will havoc the warm spring air, strumming its docile hymns.
we’ll dream of receiving blessings from all the gods we used to believe in as kids, we’ll dream of cruising down the coast of santa monica in your brother’s hand-me-down mustang & love letters in the sky.
constellations that spell out all the grainy, unspoken noise that sleeps in between us in echoes of spellbound delirium.
I'm about to start the new episode. Any friendly words?