deathbyraven

They came to my door as if they were god, as if they were the god that they presented to me in strangley drawn magazines. They try to save me. Don't try to save me. Father time has already done that. He has provided me with the hourglass which, when turned upside down, creates the doorstep to forever. Forever is now. The precept buries itself into my mind like a handful of regret, like an eyeful of new stars. Forever is never. Considering that time only exists in the round-as-moon faces hanging from the walls of schoolhouses and office buildings. Every once in a while, Helios, Surya, and Ra attempt to drag the sun across

We like to wait for night, looking impatiently out of grime coated windows at the oven world outside. During the day the heat is intense. It is melt-your-face-off hot, fry-eggs-on-a-car-hood hot. We flee inside, but the heat chases us. The heat that makes it impossible to touch makes it equally impossible to stay apart. Dusk will fall eventually, when the hot melts to sticky. Sticky is where cicadas sing. Sticky is when we dare to venture outside and take our safety break in the land of magenta sky and bats. We sit and explore alternate states of consciousness, sharing marijuana kisses as the world around us dims to black. The sticky ha