What is it tonight? What quick-shivering memories
will bolt through the dark door
stunning the slumbering child? Crouched bodies
murmuring and ready to roam
a shock of silence through the brimming hum,
coded and borrowed, hard to coalesce
out of reach of the perihelion sun.
A stallion drags his hooves above the vacancy sign
to the sound of ice crashing through the barrel.
And out of nothing, a melody, framed
by the blue blind lines that grill the wall
cutting and pasting phases of the moon.
High fidelity, equalised to the high end of sleep,
compressed and forgotten under the quilt.
will bolt through the dark door
stunning the slumbering child? Crouched bodies
murmuring and ready to roam
a shock of silence through the brimming hum,
coded and borrowed, hard to coalesce
out of reach of the perihelion sun.
A stallion drags his hooves above the vacancy sign
to the sound of ice crashing through the barrel.
And out of nothing, a melody, framed
by the blue blind lines that grill the wall
cutting and pasting phases of the moon.
High fidelity, equalised to the high end of sleep,
compressed and forgotten under the quilt.
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