She still can't comprehend
How the space between them
Once measured in fingertips
Must now be calculated
In light years

Here comes Mr. Chemtrail--
Pretty jets
Stream across the sky
By day, at night
They're tucked into cushy
Launching pads;
To sleep like us
Underneath the stars,
Drooling like a baby;
The rains of which wash away
Our Happy Tomorrow sign,
Written in sand
Across a hiraeth seashore;
With bountiful aura,
Everything is smelling like roses
Kept in the fuselage,
Waiting for a turn
To shine, perhaps ignite,
In all the glamour of
A shooting star:
Great godless geyser;
A prism of colors
Rain-bowing
Electively over funeral flowers,
This death was always meant
To be a friend with benefits,
Allowing us one last
Glorious ride into the heavens,
Before overtaken
By the undertaker;
The sky's the limit,
Steely-eyed missile man;
We're terminal now
And on final approach,
Bleed for us once more...

I steel myself for the familiar
--the dark cylinders
of half-smoked cigarettes,
I can feel it in my lungs.

"Magic begins with blood," you said.
"Don't get stuck on a dream."

That could never be.
I dream of someone new each time.

"For me, I'm your sorrow
calling in your dreams.
For me, I'm your shadow
howling in the streets."

My hands, they close
around the throat,
until that whispered plea
becomes a silent sonnet.

"You'll be happier in your grave."

There's a sigalert
on the conveyor belt,
now we'll all be late for work.
How can anything
I spend half my life on
be free?
Little by little
I'm moving away from me.
Next year
They're adding a fast lane.
No solution there,
just ******* in more butane.