Cloud People

they come from above when we don’t look cloud people with their glass hearts of malady aerial brothers of vultures and moonshiners inborn fauvists of overcrowd seas they’re here for the sad girl in this hollow house she’s full of malaise ’cause everyone left helpless like streetlights during the blackout during the ancestral storm in the west the mortadella of downtown crash and sketchy remnants of outlines in ecstasy all by the grace of childy mustache worshipped by cavemen of shifty fantasy these machines stored in liquid rooms these sabres in hands of trans parents these witches lurking by memory lanes all still heard as chants in a vintage phone in a strange place on a strange time where we always dream alone