these nights we leave both our spirits and bodies behind. we shake ourselves into bottles just so we can try and break free again.

what's your mode of transport? mine is the sun. when it rises dripping from the sea when it falls like honey on the trees when it swallows up clouds my soul moves with it.

you try to free me from my chains but i like them right where they are, around my wrists. it's a fashion statement. the word is 'despair'.

what's your mode of transport? mine is you. when you lift your eyes when you look straight ahead when you try to speak my heart moves with you.


where do we go now?