We are the builders of our dreams carved from insomnia, the sky is an attic of celestial debris and if you stare long enough you will get a migraine, so says the moon with a rainbow of Saturn then Jupiter and Mars.
Come along with me on the highway with no ghost to avoid, and no static on the radio, listening to the cabaret, with a with a love-me that just hatched waiting for tides of the voyeur moon to wash upon the shore.
And somewhere beyond the headlights, a small love-me opens its wings, still wet from the dark,while the moon leans closer, silvering everything it cannot touch.
The road keeps unspooling beneath us,black ribbon through the sleeping world, and every mile says there is no destination, only another door, where the stars have left themselves unlocked.
I think it turned out lovely, Atticus. 🙂
I agree, It is wuvley and deserves a no-bell award.
lol take it easy on the tequila, Atticus Abbey…wink 😉 You have a fun sense of humor. 🙂
The strongest thing I drink is a double ice tea.
Tremendous work to you both.
Thank you Tom.