The streetlights crooned and corroborated we exist in wave lengths and waves of pocketed air
through arid space smeared into black, like mascara under pallid tears.
Avoid detection and hold onto me while covering factions,
covering the raindrops gathered on the insular street.

Love was complacent in the midst of God,
through never ending backyards we never saw of neighborhoods we didn't know at all,
in states that don't exist.
The color blue and death ascended as we treaded to the edge of town.
Though basements’ faceless occupants talk in blurs like of opera halls, floral prints, and white bedroom walls.
Outside the window where we found the knife after being chased by unknown intentions.
Biological clocks stop,
my skin was vernal and blank.

We held onto the sleeves of one another’s sweatshirts
as we were letting go of our dreams.
We held onto our parents' religion as fruit hold their seeds.
The houses would stop and the field would begin, an ocean of beau idealism,
a pattern of strips, the air would be as sure as our deserted lips
as troubled as our educationless expletive aspects
but for now we let the mist place itself and manifest into a flood of churches sprawled across my body.

The grass was tall and intrigued by our shadows, fell still.
We were just a piece of a shadow that was everything surrounding.
We fell back into puddles away from the blank figures that waited under porch-lights,
scattered infrequently and always watching cause they were, too.
We hid away from static waves among bushes and you held onto me like we held onto the nostalgia of nonexistence.
Between white fences and the sky we fell into puddles, we split a bag and our clothes were subtle.