your whale oil sings to a teaspoon and the rabbits run fumbling through the daisy junk of your yellow sun. you are blue like green is amber and the night has lost a thumb on a scale. your phantoms pall at your bedside. they watch you dream and weep heaving hazy dust unplugged from a drum. it used to lay upon the skin of a tight snare... but now the rhythms breach and all worlds are none.
what is gone from you, we cannot say. but it heralds the coming of a gone thought on a spool of twine... the weight of moonshine and utter loss. it fogs the goggle of pine fresh eyes and looms false. but the tethers of your sweet heart are upon me.