Resting in the curve of your cupid’s bow
A lullaby in limbo
The high, like ******, slays
A yellow melancholy daze
Stars that look of bubbles in champagne
Rising, bursting and dying all at once
An idyllic, delirium game
The faraway voice of Kurt Cobain
Your doleful and sulfurous song
Travels on blistered feet
on the backs of motorcycles and mist
through this flickering and tired street