helen and the find-out club.
i dreamt under a city
of one decadence
where all denizens
sucked her sorrows
from one daturan
manifest destiny
one by one each evening
she knew to call us
the old names once we loved
simply, the glow-ing
over the treeline
is the last arc
of the world
oh name me, my dear acosmist
sliding into wet death
see the joy of the curtain
plowing hands to cleanse
a life for us in rosewater
for pliant colours fall
swollen into sickly limerance
maddness his regal reasoning,
through soft chaos we seel
the fabric of static eyes
where birth in illeism fell
fifteen summers in nullibiety
blooming under the blacklights
someday, I promise we'll wake up
and be free this weight
sickle sway where the veil disolves
see the guiless notion of light
foreverwept into a simple truth:
we are beautiful in the morning.
