The keys of a piano ring out like the memory of a kiss. It’s hazy. It Swims. We’re creatures of lust, yet the thrill of wasting days, weeks, months and years is second to none. The harmonies linked to the feelings that make me what I am sweep me off my feet. Yet, if I sit and stare out the window at three in the morning as it pisses down with rain, my soul is soothed the same as my belly after swallowing a peppermint capsule. Whipped into a frenzy, the fire of another is second only to the calming silence of the void. I can’t help myself. The buzz of life and love have taken me places no one would ever believe, yet the stillness of a parking lot bathed in moonlight gets me hard without even trying. Those photos of planet Earth as a tiny blue dot in the vastness of space? That’s me in the womb, as comfy and as carefree as I’ll ever be. The music hanging in the air is as crisp as snow. It echoes along the streets, and for a moment, I’m by the sea, knee-deep in the dead of yesterday. Tiny rocks beneath my feet. A dead cigarette between my fingers. A mouthful of infinity in my lungs, and then, by the grace of God, I sink from sight and am back to where I belong before daylight has the chance to sniff me out.