Awoken by The Self-Quake

Graveyard heads sing in harmony and roll from ear to ear as our heavy hopes drag us back down again. Along the smooth terrace of heavenly hosts the cool release of inertia bellows as the night exhales and our lung expand and wear thin on the inside. Telescope our somber cares as our head lamps roll and stare into the deepest pools of past rich with run on sentences, and tangent gaps that fill afternoons with sips of hellos. Humming hovers over this pitch perfect scape as we survived the house fires of our tortured past lives looking forward to holding our ex wives one last time. 

As the idea evaporates into fiction phrases as skin peels and the child inside stretches his legs for the first time and is met with softest embrace. Finally able to sleep, and able to be, able to wear his sunglasses as he is no longer a deer in headlights along the pumpkins faces waxing and waning with the artists knife. Halloween babies snuggle deep the naps we took in vein, the dirt we share the shame we drink, and the nights we scare among the edge of summers heat sizzle smooth and exhale full diaphragm like a teenage phase of smoke. 

One by one petals fall into the skeleton hands trying to scramble for pieces to fit somewhere all together looking to go somewhere. Faces of purity shine in moments spent glazed in poor film quality as they pose for sex that was never had, and never meant to be. Emotional infants crawling through LAN to PC hearts invested in dial tones spit down the line, and kill the house lights our choices are possibility were made in a muted culture. 

The pits, the pits as skin peels and graveyard heads melt with passion the candles we made ourselves out to be carved by the heat of the moments we never took. Inaction met with regret, tears for two, when will the light comeback?