They speak lines in chalk and blackboard,
scolded for not following the stars, but
contrarian eyes long for lonely basement grime,
while being stuffed with plastic normalcy;
They search for a savior, an empty ivory tower
of coughed smog and candied pipe breath.
                  under a dawn ocean,
                               we drew coastlines along maps of nowhere,
                                slept on the floors of skies
                                             we didn't know the name for.
Their love is chain links, decayed by daylight,
by a sun where only anti-rarity shines.
So slender bruises lace through skeletal smoke,
                   and wish for life to last just sixty years.
                                                         we're holding tightly onto saturn,    
                                                     ­                a blooming diamond, dust ring
                                                            ­                                          of the life we
                                                              ­                                    don't love