-
humans talked storybook selves...

I burn to release,
send cigarette tips moving...

I once heard that Tokyo, at night, is like a lost...
There are no businessmen to see, to act unbroken...

-
She threw paint around...

What do any of us know about anything?
I made a house for you...

All other voices are blocked out.
The scratching throat of the wind...

The sadness in her eyes is escalading forgotten...
hours slowly turning into a trailer of days, then...

The shades of your eyes are
mountain ranges that apprehend...

Panoramic irises
love like landscapes...

Have you ever felt constricted?
For I am almost certain a lock...

I miss the way your fingernails
actually seized the sunshine...

I.
Days become farther and farther away...