// WE TWO THE CHISELLED IN THE NAMELESS CITY
I'm all alone on the screaming inside, so very close to this beautiful wildling not-quite-asleep in her simple act of trying on weary ghosty wisps. Throughout all my lonely journeyings she's been certified stable. And now, she's washed up here. A see-through shell, alone with me. And we two, the chiselled in the nameless city.
Unearthed already, her identity strains and drifts among intractable things. In the studio she creates the hypodermic vortex. Please, I tell her in a parchment whisper, not tonight. Just leave me leave me leave me. Retreat from antique stones, though I myself do not flee from the ancient face of this thing that I can never explain, even when I want to. I've been gone in search of blossomed pillar candles, sanity, the touch of emerald green, when you reach for me -- but no, I can't really feel. Soon it must seem to you that I'm off elsewhere, but I'm only lying here, the wind outside, the chill within. Coffee and music block out the hours, while all around us these traffic-light moth days stretch and materialise, and every threshold year spirals down to one. single. moment. Now night clears her throat to speak: the glassy water against the curtains, lamps stuck like eyes in every window, the walls peeling stained orange pin-ups. Cradled in the stone wings of the albatross hotel, the moon: she swells into half-formed want. We date the longing through my mind's I: a retro vortex, only once stars harden, it's over, it's over, it's over, don't you know.
Such a shame how pure desperation wears off early; this lucky vein comedown sets my thoughts all a-flutter at fluorescent lightspeed. The disabled diagnosis of the needle's sting leaves me to decide I can no longer roomspin. I can't remember drifting really, just that things swirl. Join hands, you and I, let our fingers slip through our disappointment collective. Another deep blue-green membrane chases over the psychosomatic shadows; smoke that dissolves in looking-glass skin. No doorway opens. We are fractal lies, binary and circuitry, butterflies out of the code.
made by Vixen Phillips | foxtail @ protonmail . com | @subtransience@tiny.tilde.website | @foxtailrainbow