you or a coffin

i have fallen for the romance of the telescope; particular, precise, and in its focus unaware of its peripherals.

and mister moon, you are my favourite focus

i surrender to your light to forget the darkness that surrounds you:

the tussle and tug of war; a labored breath

in. you kill me

out. resuscitate me

i am a damp beige blood casket. you are my carver.

and there’s no method in your madness.

pain’s lover, you like distance, hate to be tender:

imperfections. catalysts for immediate unconditional surrender.

8 Kudos

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