..and we have been reduced to making friends with a snail under the streetlight by the lake with neon echoing from the other side; resounding. Superficial life and artificial constellations hey!
(What are we chasing, really?)

The cloud looked like naked eye leukocytes trying to heal the wounds of a scratch the sky just acquired. (Gold dust was smeared instead of iodine I should think, given the flirtatious stars that winked in and out of observation)

Then we went to sleep because of our REM debts, because we are young, because we are restless.

& this morning sees my hand on my face, supporting the weight of the burden my head had decided to carry. My watch on my cheek, inches from my ear but the tick tick tick tick tick of the seconds cry like a countdown from each breath that is held as I wait for your reply on the phone.