there’s a peculiar beauty to watching the world catch fire and living in the centre of flames
there’s an off-tone to the rose-colored glasses suddenly turned gold
the form of my waxed wings devouring my existence
what if singing sirens called me to the deceitful sea?
what if i was the sun to my own wings lingering in vulnerability to myself?

there’s a strange state in the air: the wither of life and the aching of death pushing my shoulders to sea
my cold, cold shoulder i turned against my father

there’s some truly pixelated gold surrounding my presence as the hotel my soul adopted falls to the trenches of the water

i fall in love with the in-between of life and death for a second or two or five

my arms flew and swung wide as my life was mapped and completed
i bounced with laughter
and i sunk into the swinging sea with great gaiety

and all of my flames were put out in an instant

please hang me in the silence opposite your kisses
and make me wish the stars were alive
so that i can watch them burn trails on your skin
the echoes of a universe long disappeared
they're a reminder that i too would spend a lifetime
to reach you

a breeze scatters the ashes from my cigarette
all over my legs and onto the ground
now they make tiny mountains of rubble
along with burning villages where it's lights out
before their inhabitants could even think
of worshipping the sun

parting lovers never have much to say
but i think i'll write their names somewhere
and forge my signature on a love letter meant
for an ocean that is inexhaustibly rocking
while cursing the moon for always pushing it away
when it's just trying to fill her craters

the spoils of history go towards making
impermanent things permanent on things
impermanent like the arms of those unknown
and like my backpack swallowing pens
maybe it wouldn't happen if we stopped
romanticizing the ink

my body falls in pieces from the heavens while
you're on earth mingling with the best of them
and it's not until halfway through a cosmopolitan
that you realize you forgot to catch me and
now the ants on the ground are getting stuck
on a love that could have been

have you ever noticed the shape of hearts
gives them a symmetry that makes them
capable of being folded and neatly tucked away
out of all the people you've met in your life
how many of them would you reach in your pocket
and unfold one for

if there's a reason i've melted it's because
my cigarette tastes an awful lot like you