Would it be too much to bear,
An eye and throat so sincere
That air would grow burdened by Sound.
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As Tufts and stubbles arise from their not so ephemeral wat’ry fiefdoms,
Thrush and blackbird alike chant and despair for company of woman or worm
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Light is breaking through the cracks,
the crawling king snake snaps his back,
his hollow heart was painted black
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I don’t know if i can, y’know, do this
I can’t pray that we are star-crossed anymore,
I think we’re just unlucky.
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it’s a constricted sensation deep within my chest
I doubt my ability to name it as it settles —
living and breathing and growing
sickening each lung in turn until oxygen feels liquid and I choke.
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Even when my eyes are closed, I am haunted by yours.
I ache for sleep and yet you’re still awake, forever in my mind
Looking at me, staring and studying and searching for
Something.
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Scanlines on TVs used to pose a technical challenge
Editors would create imperfect images
Then corrected by the technical limitations of a TV
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