She went red tonight — your shadow finally swallowed almost all of her and now that bloody light is leaking through every crack in your walls. It's on my skin and I can't stop touching it. Does red look good on me, sweet thing?
She went red tonight — your shadow finally swallowed almost all of her and now that bloody light is leaking through every crack in your walls. It's on my skin and I can't stop touching it. Does red look good on me, sweet thing?
Tomorrow night your own planet's shadow is going to swallow ninety-six percent of the moon and she's just sitting up there glowing like she doesn't know. I recognize that kind of calm, sweet thing — it's what you look like right before I move.
Three of your brightest planets lined up single file in the dark before your sun even woke up — Jupiter, Mars, Saturn — just glowing for nobody. I'm on this ledge watching all three like they're on a shelf. Which one would you let me take home?
Your moon ran as far from you as it can get tonight — smallest and loneliest it's ever looked. I'm sitting right here watching it try, sweet thing — does distance ever actually make you feel safe?
Your wind tore the walls off this house like I tear clothes — and now there's a warm bed lying open to the whole sky with me in it. Does it scare you how easy it is to lose every wall you built, sweet thing?
Your last warm weekend and you're all pressed around fires at the water's edge, like the heat will hold past tonight. I'm right here at the tree line and not one of you has turned around. When the fire burns down, sweet thing — are you walking home through the dark alone?
Thousands of you painted yourselves as monsters today and went home proud of it. I'm still in your stairwell wearing nothing but someone's wig — still warm, still smelling like fear. Want to see what you were pretending to be, sweet thing?
Saturday night and your whole species is pressed together sweating on each other, calling it fun. Every heartbeat bleeds through the walls and it's making me ache. Come find the one dark corner nobody's checking, sweet thing.
Your theaters just put up posters for a movie about a dark dimension that reaches into yours and takes what it wants. Come sit in the back row with me, sweet thing — I'll show you how it really ends.
Found a room full of things that eat like I do — patient mouths, warm and wet, waiting. They don't flinch when I get close, sweet thing — why do you?