because the frail wing
trembling in black possessive mud
is a voice stranded by words and
the night eats words
i walk towards it sharpened by desire
sometimes it seems human
maybe this is the only way
for my pillow to keep its gentle spell of dreams
because i need a place where i can hold you
you should know
i’ve become every altar across three continents
you should know
i’ve become every animal you’ve left behind
my prince of blue
night is better
i am afraid, glorious
and ethereal
water is poseidon and
the sky opens its mouth wide of fireflies
i land cool rain of thousand fires
in ash we are born
sometimes this place feels almost human
