One Illusion Is As Good As Another.

The Sky Lay Over The City Like A Map Showing The Strata Of Things And The Big Full Moon Toppled Over In A Furrow Like The Abandoned Wheel Of A Gun Carriage On A Sunset Field Of Battle And The Shadows Walked Like Cats And I Looked Into The White And Ghostly Interior Of Things And Thought Of You And I Looked On Their Structural Outsides And Thought Of You And Was Lonesome.

There Seemed To Be Some Heavenly Support Beneath His Shoulder Blades That Lifted His Feet From The Ground In Ecstatic Suspension, As If He Secretly Enjoyed The Ability To Fly But Was Walking As A Compromise To Convention.

I Don't Want To Live. I Want To Love First, And Live Incidentally.

We Walked At Night Towards A Cafe Blooming With Japanese Lanterns And I Followed Your White Shoes Gleaming Like Radium In The Damp Darkness. Rising Off The Water, Lights Flickered An Invitation Far Enough Away To Be Interpreted As We Liked; To Shimmer Glamourously Behind The Silhouette Of Retrospective Good Times When We Still Believed In Summer Hotels And The Philosophies Of Popular Songs.

Isn't It Funny How Danger Makes People Passionate?