the season ebbs into the white stones

color grows into the dirt, sprouting from the walls

the pink echo of faces, the leg’s purples, catching ultraviolet

the sun creeps into the mind, chasing the frost from the breath

the mist from morning air, the scent of decay from the branches

it is lofting among the cirrus waves, glinting the blindness

it chases us into the chlorine soak, from the decks and the salts

the grease of the sand and the writhing grains on our backs

the cold presses in, the cell trappings of dusk and silence

the heat is loud, our burning threshes are the small yellow whispers

my gold along the sidewalk cracks, withering veins of concrete

sprinting through the moments, feelings like red infection

the heart is catching, the city alight with rust

the fatal orange

crawling from the long crack of your mouth



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