Grey White Grey

Tonight, you can wear my skin as your skin

It's tough and worn and impermeable and impossible

with the date stamped even though the queue is long

because it seems all a bit Dali

But on nights like this

when the soft of clouds is scratchy like a sweater on sale

it will fit like a pigeon in a clouded window

or a spiked sill

And the sun will stay set for a while this time

Because he's tired and I'm tired and sleep would come easy

if the curtains weren't drawn and the timing wasn't wrong

And I knew the words that fit easily in your lips and mouth and tongue

And if our beating hearts were proximal like we're taught to understand

and the dirt we breathe could be listed as

holistic and sadistic and scientific

I would tell you the truth

But the worms have lied

and the birds aren't early

so no one gets anything except the feeling of empty

and a shaking hand holding a sallow lantern

But when my hair is tied back with twine

and the Autumn feels sweet and safe again

Things will return to almost as they were

before the fall

Barcelona (or, In a city built on waves of beautiful glass)

PJ Harvey and John Parish "Blackhearted Love"

Well isn't this lovely dark and deep.

The Cure "The Lovecats"

On the Morning of My Release

And the wood cracks and cracks and snaps and

when the leaves begin to fall like splinters of themselves

I miss what was

When the green light is new it rises and lifts and applauds

our youth and hair and skin

And in that moment you looked so gold

Truths were told and folded and beholded

when the sky was something grey like a wolf

that only wanted to sleep, not eat

And inside wanted outside with the tag out

but you'd fix it for me

because I'd fix it for you

Where's the Garbage Bin?

Sometimes I write things. And then realize it's complete rubbish.

The aftermath:

In One Night: Grizzly Bear, meet The Knife