A swarm of horses sailed toward the sky half in reverse of the ocean, a heart that questioned the reflection of seaside. Back in the south she melted bicycle gears to liquor Quenching a million budding buoys becoming boys. Inside her smile, a compartment of spit beside the blinds sealed off to the color red. In a room full of eardrums a name like a knife, rooting and sewing the ground of your yearning. The moon shook you As fast as headache turns to dust. It hits harder then your hands, softer then tears of antelope sliding down sails; A reminder how you looked when you first caught my eye Plastered on the tree of a chandelier Hanging as high as suicide pastries Under emerald flavored corneas.