I saw an old man crying at
the precipice of his sanity,
ten stories above the sea,
and the world at his feet, a helo-deck:
a principality that had the worn out lay of home.

So trivialized.
So fantasized.
So immobilized.
Transmitting pirate-radio-waves eternally.

Seized the tower.
Hoisted the flag.
Crowned the queen.

"I've no blood right, only a passport," he said. "But do have the right mindset: I can't leave, we're so dangerous. Don't be a stranger now, we'll never be this dangerous again..."

Fear is the relief of
Being lost in the woods
When the canopy shines
Before the night arrives

Fear is the relief of
Being greeted by the sea
Welcomed by the breeze
As the storm subsides

When I lie awake at stark midnight
At night, I find relief
In the darkest reliefs of the mind
Where fear is a friend of the dark

You asked me what I wanted
A soft life, I replied
You poured me another glass of red
In an iridescent cup
When I press it to my lips
It is sweet
I have lived
Through enough bitterness
A soft life. You promised.

Climb into my bed
Warm skin on gray sheets
I tilt my head back
One more kiss
Before the moon
Takes over for the sun
One more kiss