I’d never touched the surface of the moonlight.
Shades of green bathed in milky light covet the stars of their shine.
What if there were no more comfort? No more tv to drown out the anxiety of our sin. No more facades canarying plastic joy into our utter isolation. I stand on the dark side of the moon. That's not grass, it's the grocery store, and that's no moon, it's the simple light glazing the forefront of endless milk jugs. All is real and fake and melded to the imagination of our subconscious desires. Milk is evil, and ******* is the gateway to heaven. We’ll never see what our habits blind the truth to, or what our spirits refuse to believe. I stand in this aisle, and I see God. But six people walked away from Him.