The bullets left us alone
and a swarm of bees
that was his treasure and an oxidised night.
They raised us up in their arms
we discovered planets
we thought ourselves as strong as war heroes.
And halfway through the lightning flash the altitude sickness arrived
we went thirst in the air but mouth in the dirt.
Now you light up the hours
with winks that escape
covering up the memory with silver trays.
And we miss each other so much
that we take to coming unstuck
in avenues of glue, held down by the knees.
And halfway through the lightning flash the altitude sickness arrived
we went thirst in the air but mouth in the dirt.
The antenna is open waiting for a signal
The signal that doesn’t arrive to this waiting room is an eternity.
And the perfect treasure covered the storm
with planes passing in the blackest night.
And halfway through the lightning flash the altitude sickness arrived
we went thirst in the air but mouth in the dirt.