Havana. Wisconsin. Trespass my soul for a new way to find the secrets we long to see. Native American fears. Boundless skies stretching blue for as far as the eye can see. Oceans in a bellybutton. Trees hold memories. They sing to us as we walk so lonesome to pass the time of day. A crisis of hearts leading to bleeding gums. Breaking chains like blades of grass. A ring of roses around skinny wrists. Flowers beneath pretty chins to reflect the greedy taste for butter. Make haste with those dreams. Don’t allow them to pass you by. Burning wheels on the surface of a moonlit lake. Killers haunting teenage babes as the freeway calls your name. These rooms smell like hospitals. This headache a reminder of youthful indifference. Dashboard confessional with the radio on. Cold bleak winters driving down roads with no name. The windows steam with the passing of obscure words. Lanterns rise unseen. Birds on a haystack. Needles in weakened veins. The anatomy of butterflies taught to fearless children. Go wash your sins away with sinners salt. Scrub that dirty skin and find a lover with senseless wonder. Erase your guilt with flesh. Banish your pain with ejaculation. Dissolved girl in the passengers seat. Kill me with love. Kill me for the thousand time with babies breath. Forever unwell.
We traffic goods in the dead of night. We smoke cigarettes whilst the stink of possibility clings to our dreary clothes. An aimless straight from garden to city. She drinks wine and falls off chairs. He stalks the crimson passage that gives them what they want. The old driveway where we loaded the car with belongings. The animated look on their faces as we caught the stars and ate them like it were nothing. You wont find me here. There’s only mountains and darkness where once only truth dared play. Dried leaves and dust on your mirror. Spiders caught like prisoners. Courtyards where we walked hand in hand not knowing which way to go. The rain came and saved us though. It wrapped us in melancholy and showed us the meaning of regret. Invisible like tear drops. As cold as the grave after realising all that’s been lost. Wishes placed in envelopes. Handwritten confessions to feelings where there should only be thoughts. Flowers burn, as does paper. Laws serve no purpose. Women in the distance, like falling snow on the shore. Everything is still. Everyone old for no reason. Always right even in defeat. The hanged man as the car door opens up to the avalanche of lies. All those bodies and minds that failed. All those pathetic acts. It didn’t interest me then, and nor does it now.