days pass like other days, just
lullabies in single,
you, and me, and the end of everything:
how we had found thoughts, like life, unraveling,
in that pristine and angular field,
locked up- brilliant, crystalline, and in voices shaded pale cherry,
some statement of ephemeral lust, no doubt;
we've always been fools,
holding ideals, far too grand
for the size of our routine worries
and, now,
the clock's still claiming moments,
the faucet hasn't lost it's gauze, yet,
the radio's crackling paper moons, in sevenths,
and, me,
recalling a patchwork sentiment and, then, little charming you, you, you, you, you...
made up of scattered electricity, you always leave me lost and drowning;
drowning, drowning, drowning, and
watching those soft-changing colours, through the drifting canopy as
brine-soaked seafloors meander, take place, and
me, falling,
dreaming in shades of slow loss.
so, good night to all the lovers,
all the shimmering faces;
to all the lights of the cities,
all the pleading droplets of rain,
all the shortwave signals, furrowing their ways up north,
to all the heavyset expressions, long led goodbyes,
all the sorrows, left a mess for so many years.
good night, that is all,
good night.
