Neon Austere

Waves of neon collapse the sense of wonder as we slip between waters, as time retreats upwards, and outward. 

Away from the planes of mischief we plotted in hearts dead, and buried riddles with rot, and expired potpourri that wasted it's time hoping for a breathe of fresh air. 

Close hands, submerged into the vacuums that have been buried long, and farther than any other fragments from wounds long scabbed, and forgotten. 

It's always downhill both ways as the climb has always killed long before the fall.

Faceless boys embalmed in the forgotten fields lay asleep to their place, and time.

Times have always been tough, and the fingers that press our foreheads come with the consolation that they were just a second too late as our smiles turn to robins egg, to baby blues as we fade from memories into the drink softly.

My last words to a girl in a yellow dress were vile as the neon fills my lungs pushing me through, and further into the festering. Skin uproots, and slips into the ether as newness exposed as joy is complete. 

Now that we are here let's tell the truth as her face becomes trace less, distance, as the final exhales clearing the heart filled tar, and feathers from our lungs.  Blue horizons ignite, then pink, green, and orange as the dead skin slips in between days, and in between waves callous ways come for the surnames we have surrendered in hallowed evenings. 

Swallowing the last bitter drinks upward into the night.