Drowned world in a miasma of plastic. I turn to love is not just a flash in the pan. I am moody walls and stone borders, eyes on the horizon, the quickening ****** sunset. I try to believe in some heaven that I am here. I should pay more attention. I should bloom like a flower underneath your sun, rewarding you with an infinite unfurling of petals. The night need not crush. It may reveal its stars. The child bridesβ shrieks do not always denote pain.