I drove up to the city at night where the hills were filled with void, lack, houses and you grew up there and your gooey melted self that you hold strongly somehow ricocheted off your parents’ absence and you narrowly escaped and felt stronger and hotly radiated revenge towards us all today and you were spending the night nervously dialing for your true friends and strongly I got your call and lovingly was reeled in. I invested it all for some reason and found myself excited to see the warming city night sky through the cars and painful glass and gas and the beautiful location and soiled sand bore fruit before rotting and cutting down and sickly replacing for the wrong reasons. I was wholly excited to greet this waste. Pointless things like trimmed trees and radio towers became towering symbols and I noticed you in the cold standing simply right next to me and then we walked around until it got late, a triumphant blow to the fleeting fires that usually pull us both to bed when they go out early on, disappointingly early, you told long stories about your long upbringing while we passed mansions and leaf-blown heaps, rot, bricks and garages, we could probably both feel the ghost of a lighthouse of a tree they could see from out in boats and across the bay where everyone used to climb the hill, where now 3 red metal towers dominate, to congress and figure out what’s gong wrong, back before all the things in the city were so devastatingly wrong, someone’s house dumbly replaced such an important spot, the house dumb and serving so few because of its quick rise. But alas, in spite of all this spirit-breaking waste I felt intact, sturdy even, a soaring self looking around and noticing the minor things that importantly hung on, meekly insisting that the world is actually mysterious and unconquerable, even the weird beauties we have a tainted hand in: the glowing orange nighttime cloud cover, the echoing cross walk alarm, the din of the street, tires rotting, our weak castle being slowly demolished, these things can bring me slowness, calm power and cutting eyes in the right moments, and I felt it then looking up at the orange lights lighting unfortunate streets and reflecting back up and resonating through the thick cloud coating in an orange city glow, the black behind eerily reminding us not to forget what else, and I turned my cutting eyes your way and saw pools of brown just as wide as my holes of brown bearing honestly what we held inside for a second we were both looking brave and sharply seeing in. I ended up just spending the night up there next to you in the same room where you grew up and the sleep was so thick that when we woke up, when the sun was up miraculously again, it was a miracle to me that we were still sweetly there in your parents’ house, lying in bed together feeling strong and open and the light came in the expensive windows to light our out-of-place thighs like raised arms and ♥♥♥♥♥♥ head screaming in rejoice, the feeling was deep and strong. Tides turned. I went back to feel alone there, to wipe the place clean, to see the towering symbols for what they were, to confront painful clues to a wholesome loving past and neutralize myself in a way where maybe I could be human again.

[...]

Continuously now every single night since I’ve been alive there’s been a white light from above, a sort of eerie bluish glow on the empty streets where we live. In the summer’s end we climbed out the window downtown and out onto the roof with more blankets again and stared knowing at it for what it was, a floating ball of rock lit up by another ball, an invisible ball of fire reflecting light and weird blue mooney thoughts ricocheted around our planet onto us on the roof staring silently up and feeling invincible, dangerous, and high, I had the exciting feeling of heft in my chest like I was carrying a baby, my baby looked exactly like me and looked me in the eye sharply knowing I was about to lose it but from up on the roof I looked out across the globe again with you: I felt the lava behind us coursing deeply and the other side, I felt the space above us and the other side of the moon and behind that, and off to the side I felt tiny lights off the glass, my sensitivity ran off, I could feel electricity through a wire from a mile away and I even felt the churning water turning turbines behind that and the fish upstream and smooth rocks beneath being slowly ground down by the polishing flow and the bubbling mountains glacially spilling stone, the smooth escape and reformation of pilgrims from one rotting body to another tiny growth to rot soon and expand. I felt a part of this all and I was content to have you feel it too, to have the blood in your hand holding mine be equally wet and warm, and I looked to my right and saw you riveted to the sky, riveted in an all encompassing way to feel it all, including me and my mountainous pride to your left, we were a pair of moist bodies again in the creepy bluish light. To be able to feel in an instant the size of your self and the distance to that elusive glowing ball and the long path it all takes to become what you’re a part of now: it’s like being transcendently dead for a second, to be able to breathe in and out and have that be a rapturous play, we were silently amazed and nobody said any words, we felt safe and we discovered that our skin is soft, we both are glowing in smooth flesh like blue mooney light and we found that out, you had your arm on my waist, I had my palm on your neck, air flowed in and slid out, cars drove by, the roaring sound of the planet’s spin, we were separately mighty and tiny universes and our main strength was being able to psychically discuss certain death, the only thing left. We were mighty. After getting terribly hurt by you I had to go back and cancel everything out that had any value, a helpful and depressing way of dealing with such a loss. I went out into the street by my house to try and look up at the moon blindly, to all of a sudden think it’s a white hole or some kind of stupid prop, to get in the car and drive pointlessly around, to try and forget that. I made the attempt to hang my mightiness up and to be painlessly dumb, peacefully numb, it seemed better to not have to know what’s really going on for some reason. I sacrificed my calm powerful way for a stupid attempt to avoid, I stood out in the street looking up and my eyes got wide. There’s no escape and the end’s not something I’d be able to wait out, I have to lucidly keep going along and feel the cut grow and get infected before it even maybe won’t heal, I looked up for a long time and my mouth got wide and chilly air filled my chest I saw the slow rustling in the bushes across the tracks and the orange lights up the street and the tunnelling feeling below them, my neck bent low as I surveyed my still dark home, I saw my feet firmly planted on the cement. They were tinted in blue and I looked past them through the crusty layers into the burning coil, I saw the smoke from my chimney and felt my stomach roar and in the blue light I held on to my lack.