These dreams are lucid, baby. They hurt in every joint and bone. The scene shifts, we drift into colours. I fold maps, just wishing to hold you close,
and the city is asleep, and nobody is awake but me, and the window’s dark, and the snow lies thick and clean. I see shadows move away leaving black marks.
These dreams are lucid, baby. Come home now, just let down your shoulders. You know there’s nothing to it, just two marks in the structures of our hands.
I’ve never seen such beauty. It’s there in pain, in agony. There is just you, believe me— you blew my lines and wires alive.