I hate night-time.
It’s cold and dark and there’s so much ******* light pollution
You can’t even see the stars.
There’s no hope.
You can’t even see tomorrow because by midnight,
Tomorrow has already come
Yet it has hardly been.

I love night-time.
We sing, we dance, we stay up until that old cliché:
The morning light arrives and it’s good,
Another night wasted.
- Wasting time isn’t necessarily time wasted. -
Then the day carries on itself and all I can think is,
What will happen tomorrow night?

It might be cold and dark and hopeless
But it’s fun
And who cares about sleep?

Did you know that your eyes are flecked with gold?
Well, they are.
Yeah, they’re mostly blue, but there’s definitely gold round the edges.
Go look in the mirror then.
Don’t be stupid, eyes can’t be pink.
Uh huh.
You’re an idiot.
Gold is warm and rich and deep.
Why do I like your eyes? Because they like to lie to me. Ca m’amuse.
Yes.
I think you lie to me all the time.
No.
Because you lie to yourself too.

An artist
In Japan, I think, or somewhere,
Built a swimming pool
That looks like a pool
But isn’t
And people go inside it and can look up
And see the people looking at them.
I saw it on Facebook,
“Like if it’s cool.”
Heart heart x x.

It doesn’t beat actually being underwater,
The surreality when you open your eyes
And the chlorine or the salt stings
And you see swimming trunks
Or fish
And things better not mentioning
And you look up and see the ceiling
But beyond that is the sky
And beyond that is space
And beyond that is stars
And beyond that is galaxies
And beyond that is…
Everything.

And you feel so deep underwater,
But you’ve barely scratched the surface.