I
The snow is coming down like it’s been waiting all these years to suffocate us all.
I could hear the cry of the wolf getting ready to swallow the sun,
you could feel the cold ****** tears,
and hear the cries falling from the sky;

The stars were hung by their necks after the light had left.

Pressured time.
a perception of stress-
a compact void that’s always been repressed.

and the wolves hunt at night?
hungry for the light the moon could never give them
the same light that makes your limbs feel numb

in a fit of anger and rage I told you not to stay
and when I went away
I wished you stayed-
to take me back to our childhood days
and now the sunlight doesn’t feel the way it use to against your skin
who would’ve thought that light could sin

these lapses of reality could even bring the moon to his broken knees
this void hasn't been able to please not one of us
this broken house is floor-less
tourists
we feel like tourists in our own homes,
when I told you that I just wanted to be your home

II

“when your house burns down every year, then you stop caring about what you hang on the walls”
and every year when the firemen come
they tell you
“this will only hurt a lot”
but every year there’s less of a mess
making it all hurt a little less
and somehow the void now makes sense
taking me back to that day


you taught me how to change the batteries in a smoke alarm
but that never changed your mind
you taught me how to bring a breath back to lungs
but that never brought you back


your ashes were white
in the monolithic society
but in the cosmical simplicity of it all
we all know you weren’t that clean

*and now wolves are in the void
the light is gone