Through these blades of amber grass that twist and turn in the breeze, we peek at those who do such a sleazy job at being what they think it means to be human. For many, they spend their days seeking a version of life that doesn’t exist, but for the likes of us, such games of imitation mean nothing. Our lonesome ways mean we shall always be on the outside, and the outside is where we play hide and seek with the ghosts at dawn not caring for anything other than the stars that shoot through our veins. Give me your lips, girl. Give me your heart. Let’s rub each other’s bellies beneath the watery sun and come undone in a mixture of beauty and loss and vodka and heartbreak that will drown out the noise of a world that’s bored us from the moment we became aware of the fleeting nature of our reckless lives. Give me that chin of yours. Give me that neck. Give me it all as this skin of mine slides from bone revealing what’s within, and what’s within is everything that they will never have which is why they fear us and always will. When we should be sleeping, we’re walking the tightrope between day and dream daring each other to risk it all for the endless descent that surely awaits. When we should be trying so hard to be like them, we can’t help but waste the days with a smile on our face knowing that such days are as cheap as those pouting fucks that descend in their droves to the bars and clubs where the dead dance night after night trying so hard to feel alive. And dead they are, from their hearts down to their arses. Watching from the shadows, I spread your legs and just like that we’re moving through infinite layers of existence, and as my hands reach inside your chest and my hips grind against yours, this dull and witless town soon evaporates. Through these singing blades of grass that surrender to the wind, the lights of secret places twinkle on the horizon, and when you curl your toes, and I bite your nose, those lights grow and grow until they touch our skin and make our souls bloom like flowers before the sun.