I swear the star-lit hours are thieves.
Deep navy our depressant
in those free hours of the night,
Principles drenched clean in burnished light.
Inhibition stolen now,
we flail a rhythmic roadside dance
an ethereal midnight trance.
Bluey blood flowers my sleeve,
Kneeling on ghostly asphalt - still.
I don’t know what I tried to ****
But blue looks red in the morning.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
I swear the star-lit hours are thieves.
Deep navy our depressant
in those free hours of the night,
Principles drenched clean in burnished light.
Inhibition stolen now,
we flail a rhythmic roadside dance
an ethereal midnight trance.
Bluey blood flowers my sleeve,
Kneeling on ghostly asphalt - still.
I don’t know what I tried to ****
But blue looks red in the morning.
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