In lonely summer nights,
passing alleyways of desolation
recurring decadence and breathlessness.
Don't take me away from home
I'll evidently reach the end
Wake me up in a quiet glass room that overlooks the mountains
bleeding out trees of doubt,
and cold mist.
Scarred by a joke for eternity
I mourn the incapacity that drives me forward.

We pass the lighthouse every night.

One sweet morning,
I awoke to the cry of a jackal in the dark.
Memory.