Sweet Juice and Young Bones

Because today my hands started to unravel the wires of the telephone pole, the ones in the middle of the street connecting terraced homes together. Familiar facades showing familiar window, showing outgoing smiles and orange evening lights, yet when our night, the room blues in my face, I play all the records of dead people while I wonder where my older nights have gone, while your supernatural vision eyes are eyeing me soberly, and my thoughts hit my head, cringe together like a family of birds suddenly leaving me more peaceful than seasons, than power, or your searching glances, leaving me more private and unafraid because today I am from the sea and will laugh soon enough over your beige wallpaper and white bedroom, the sky calls and my young eyes start being the weapons I need because of today.