Considering going to sleep.

But oh how good it feels to be at this point. 

Where everything is wrong. And that just... feels right.

It's never too late

to try to be sincere.

"Writers are always selling everyone out."

But in my transgressions is an apology,

quiet and mumbled, I'm sorry I have to do this

as words rise up and make my bones ache,

I can't help it that some of the words are meant for you,

Hurting your autonomy to protect myself.

I hope you understand.

But you understand less than you let on

I am walking towards the orange lights on the far side of the field

I can't see any stars, but the moon is so low and close and round.

"After all, it is you and I who are perfect, not the next world"

I've always loved the moon most of all.

Tonight shadows seem wide and loose, aching to be cut free

and the light plays tricks on us

and we, on the light.