Regress. Redress.

These last lights guide us home

Without resolve. And with blue

Waving to us from the neon

Night we regard each other as

Strangers.

 

Fictive. Addictive.

We move time away like layers

Of dust. Thick with apprehension,

Lacking revelation, I

Wipe my mind’s eye of our last

Question.

 

Fortune. Ruin.

In my sleep I call to you but

You don’t dream or cry the end,

Only your own dissipation.

Rescued by myself, I changed and

Became.