we collided under the wet-paper smell of the moon, threaded through the black grass.
there were no stars to see us, wild and crying;
i was cold for the first time in my life that night.
the moon’s color was our color, and we shined
icy bright, cycling and spinning through the wind like
so many machine parts and restless breaths.
we are so strange and perfect.
so bleak and so breathtaking.
shoot me.
shock me.
kiss me.
kill me.
i have separated myself into such disturbing places, such
dark corners,
the air sparkles with fresh beauty every time i come out to breathe.
and this is not home, there are no stars,
but each moment sees me more alive, and glad.