THE HEART OF THE MOON

Heart night.
Heart moon.
Mystery illuminated by the dream.
The thought tears. Every morning it opens one day.
It hurts to wake up.
Having to live in human sleep.
A bright and perky twin.
While you are still sleeping.
An efficient and hardworking twin while you laze in the sheets.
A slab of hearts.
Crushed.
I went in from the back.
Walking on the carpets with holes in them.
The rooster crowed.
The rain was coming.
Candles dropped from my eyes and the light touched my green irises, coloring the meadows of your feeling.
I have chosen not to participate in the life cycle but to remain in nature.
From your doors to my doors a hanging wire grows, almost a vine.
Profane.
A darkly severed scene cut by a skeptical director.
That you want a happy ending is obvious but my end is always cynical.
Heart night.
Heart moon.
Mystery illuminated by the dream.
The thought tears.
Every morning it opens one day.
It hurts to wake up.
Having to live in human sleep.
A bright and perky twin.
While you are still sleeping.
An efficient and hardworking twin while you laze in the sheets.
A slab of hearts.
Crushed.

 

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