Melting into slo-mo
An inevitable slowing
Weak in the knees and in the fists
All signs waiting patiently for you to spot them pointing and your esp is on the fritz
Day 3
Christen this city with the sound you grew up wanting jangle trauma in the light
Bus stop junkies looking pretty as the morning
Jungle hot after a rainy night
Day 3
And by dawn we’re floating
Flying
And by dawn we’re neurons firing