I want the misty mountains.
Not like they are now,
But how
They were a year or so ago.
...
Moribund day.
Sun dies
and moon inherits the sky behind.
A plane interrupts
...
Figures of flawless grey
bent against the wind.
Filled with empty
up to the brim.
...
When you spoke,
there was not enough.
Your hands moved through the air
like a bird,
...
Like butterfly’s wings,
I cannot be touched.
For skin against skin
and overwhelming brush
...
Look at the actor.
Spreading his arms like wings,
As if trying to fly
Over the heads of his audience,
...
Friend 1: I’m lost, you know, sometimes.
Sometimes I wrap myself up in me and hide.
I fly, but inside.
And
...