The light is no mystery, the mystery is that there is something to keep the light from passing through.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

Here I am in a rabbit run, here I am in a valley of pine, waiting for you to find me. I could pretend I’m speaking to everyone—assume a middle distance and transcend myself—but I’m taking to you and you know it.

Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

We laugh & it pits the world against us.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.