(experimental stream of consciousness)







we only own the night lets pretend its never ending never bending to our will yet still it seems appears by all means to be but let us see for we shall and we should not for yours but our own good nights and mornings bring sun and lighting our shame we never knew a song a hymn softly hummed in time syncopated though it was with the rhythm of the stars crying over our heads we danced in the lawn and hid in the trees dug pits for our dirty bones and covered them with leaves to be found to be lost maybe perchance to give way to others we know you are out there though we shant see it with you our love stays grows rewinds and expands upon ancient exhausted futile philosophies writ on stone tablets cuneiform hieroglyph and each grain of dust indefatigable in its relentless pursuit to destroy to wipe clean the slate of our being endless though it may seem to be crucial it may appear as a need it may seem to be right lest we forget we only own the night.



















ae.