Hiding behind the sunrise,
A reflection whose hands stretch to the night,
While the day rest on his chest.
Him and I, we have common comforts.
As he gambles his eyes to shadow to travel into sleep,
I don’t let him leave me behind,
Because everything has darkened into a pitch-black sky,
There’s nothing here for me anymore,
And I don’t want to go on my own.
A promise summersaults on the string to which I have him tied,
And an escape is not flying in the open for him to create or find.
We become runaways,
Running from all the signs,
Searching for warnings on people’s mouths,
Arresting holy war,
Scratching visions of the roads on the walls.
There’s something there for me, places and people,
On these counted cards, wasted on foreign hearts,
So I shelve him and them on the corner of every chance,
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