Strobe when revealing a smile variegated your polychrome soul within sight does not know where to go but to pine away from the single light to touch the innards of your button-down making intimate the body contorts dancing with another a minute past a gyratory
if belief is a grave: let stasis be metamorphosis. this rained-on house will not give way any minute
else there is the wreckage springing from a singular hiding behind the music ballasting ground and from a convinced consequence of being became fracture as if salacious to withdraw nothing but noise
from the quiet or vice versa. If when breaths were postponed, inert – they will start estimates from outside the neon sign that says Pulse and reimagine the lives when divorced from the daily, and is then summarized
in a fusillade. When on the ground
they must have been dreaming of wings, or falling asleep constantly with a warm body stranger tomorrow in that evening a contingent
this place they have not reached yet against their head said it was the most sincere of blankness at any given rate, when movements statistical, numbered, unwarranted like a metaphor or a glib downpour – the aftermath
becomes sleep so tender with a dream which resonates They must have been dreaming of wings but by the time when someone waiting for them inside homes, they have already flown into days.