Low oceans, sweet fires,
Bad candies, little fruit,
Bringing me back to earth, bringing me back to life
Riding on the backs of asteroids.

with one, a tree - short, with leaves of a redder *** than what belong to me,
with another, a road is carried - long, seeming to never end as one step leads to another, tumbling over itself,
with the fortunate, a lantern - hanging from a pole in suspension from the window of my car,
with my unfortunate gnome, a sign - bearing the words I am in a way to force others to Obey the word of my god.

and as I extinguish my candle,
as anguish, darkness creeping crawling in along my floor,
spilling out over the wood like fog,
my mind wanders,
as an attempt to banish the darkness,
before suddenly, my mind is gone.

How odd, though,
that upon the occasion of the sky crying,
we feel kinship,
and warmth
among the water.

Blissfully, I recount,
his eyes as grey as the sea,
blissfully, he spoke,
vibrations shoving insects aside
to push his words to me,
as a storm does, as a storm does

Rain, beating on his window,
shocked him awake and in turn, horrified me,
gathering thunder to himself as if
he were Zeus's favorite, his shivers shaking the house,
as a storm does, as a storm does

and one by one, we traveled alone,
with winds adorning our heads,
and bit, by bit, he gave himself,
to me, as though
I could save him
as a storm does, to a port,
as a storm does.

I have never met one, who spoke,
with such a velocity as this one did,
with storms flying from his lips.

There is no one I miss
more
than the feeling of you
crawling into bed with me
but there are no monsters,
but men,
there are no monsters,
but men,
there are no monsters, but men,
only us who cling to sinking ships
who wave hello and blow out candles
there are no monsters,
but men
only us who wish death upon ourselves,
only us, who punish, for punishing,
only us, who torture, for torture,
only us, who hunt, for sport,
there are no monsters, but men
and as much as dear Jordan attempted to clear,
he could not escape the men,
Hello, they sang, hello, he whispered,
thinking,
there are no monsters, but men
Dear Jordan, he fought, a champion,
Dear Jordan, with lions and fish,
Dear Jordan, who hunts, as pure as he is,
Dear Jordan, our own,
personal,
man.