I'll lie with these rhythmic flourescents hanging
pushing light on whitewashed walls poorly painted
And dully sunned palms outstretched and drooping
And steven spielberg sinks charcoal tainted
I watch everything from the 17th floor
The sky a lackluster pupil of a mare
The magenta air is a chest just before
taking a breath and the city is just a breath taken
And the world slowly just...happens
Like bees building structures for their children a wonderful catastrophe
Like a roll of film falling off a cliff and unwinding itself
Or rather dividing and dividing
Winding itself into new terrifying and **** beautiful things
And making and becoming