back here on the lawn his spirit continues to drool
From honeyed milk to funeral pyre
Killing you is killing myself.
Psychedelic invocations of Mata Hari at the station
I didn’t get your name stranger
I never saved anything for the swim back
Out of soft focus desire
Are you still jumping out of windows in expensive clothes?
But you know I’m pretty tired of both of us.
You make me laugh but it’s not funny