delicate and limp they lie between the spaces amongst hard print on factual papers; occasionally unrealistic figments of self deluding fantasy.
“they’re luxuries”, you mumbled, a lament towards their rare materialization in your few hours of slumber; the soft impression leading souls up the garden path, misleading for they were not all that pleasant.
midway after sunset your heavy breathing is the silence i hear; your silhouette limp against the amber lights. they came once again, desperation had come once again.
you squinted into the distant darkness, “oddities veiled by a coat of blur, though a fantasy felt as tangible as the touch of skin; i’d fall endlessly down the pit. most of all, pathetically i had no one to catch me.”