It’s warm, like that muggy heaviness that hangs in the chlorinated air above pools; artificial and stifling but comforting nonetheless.
You get too close, and the neon will burn your eyes. A remnant of something long gone, but it lives on. Its warmth would **** you, you know. Don’t get too close.

And so I painted a little red house for us to live in, darling, with a brown roof and four sturdy walls and we could live there, live there in that little red house and pick thistleberries and have stained glass windows and teabag dresses and little leather boots

We all watch the cacti flowers bloom under the atomic moon, and dance in the neon limelight. There cannot be much beyond this golden light we’ve entangled ourselves in; this must be the end of the universe, and yet the land stretches for miles into the darkness, wrapping around the mangled dark country of the desert, a wasteland of shrubbery and red-rock.  Our existence is a tangle of contradictions and yet we carry on, endlessly, under the pale moonlight and sprinkling of stars. We pray for change with out hearts, but know nothing will happen unless we act from our own hearts.

We play, we dance, we sing, and we question what it all means. And when we cease to find clear answers, we breathe in the night air and remember the steady beating of our hearts, since some such transient things as the beating of our hearts feel so immortal and precious to our mortal souls.

Before the storm, the river had all but given up,
the guttural roar of wind and deluge
rattled all souls, except her
and in the aftermath she swelled
and bore delicious weight again
and my eye-contact
with the pageantry of the green headed drake
told all the muddy truths:
to underestimate is to lose

Reach out!
You pure flesh, of rock and stone,
Earthly creature sighing of earthly delights,
Of things unknown to us, from just beyond the horizon, from just beyond the grasp of the sun's gentle rays

And come to us now, rest your drowsy head
Tell us of your travels, your sprites, your wonders
Tell us of those dark spots in our mouths and things buried in our teeth, of river-veins and soft mountain curvature
Tell us what lies beyond the green seas and deep purple skies

Drink up, from that purity and sweet ignorance that you have grown
For our weary hearts yearn for your tales, and to see what we can't

Sleep tonight, in sapphire shadows under the full moon, by the lilacs and moon-moths
Rest your feet on moss pillows and dream of tomorrow, forever
For you are ours