Beneath the midnight keys
I feel your feet running toward me...
Huff & release
the season tactic...
When does sainthood become the foundation from...
Surely there is not always a didactic harpist...
Untie your feet
from the thorny shackles...
I let liquid sorrow drown my heartbeat
as my knees drop on the numb rooftop...
Electrocute me against gravitational pull
because the radical stars coerce every milky bone...
Endless.
The ocean dome...
Your sole existence dwindles off my swollen thumb,
saturated with snow...
Where did they come from?
Leaves holding crowns of tempo...
Escape,
breathing the anti-humid air...
I fill the population
a lost voice croaking...
My love
you are the water...