i still remember that electricity.

a breath like paint, words staining his lips, his teeth, the spastic rivers teetering and immutable.

I can hear my bones, and set about with a smile, somewhere on odd knees, punctuations of mountains and stemming -

the colours settle, and i am back inside my room.

i always remember it is not - what i see, if you ever saw, everything would come apart for you. it's a such a goddamn mistake, with all that green leaking through the light, the pretty fucking vibrant leaves, life, where i can go. but i stay inside, looking at the world on a spaceship touchscreen, losing all my senses, big cutting lasers through my heart, blackest wound.

but i hear the song and i don't know which way is up, that this isn't your love.

but i take photographs i won't find ugly in the years to come.

but i bury myself in pounds of flesh.

but i still hear lightning.

the switch! the switch can't you feel the fucking switch! you peel the dry skin from the halves of your fingertips, catching your teeth on cheeks, spinning through a hangover, such reason for vomit and guts and hooks and earthquakes through ceilings.

the sky appears.

you are so perfect in this moment, smile wagging in the light.

beauty so poorly translated in the fringes.

all rushing through, winter in his voice, planets fill the room. but you're still only, still only exist on a page, you haven't been here for so long. and i've kept ... ridiculous heart, machine with all ports open, taking in too much. i touch dust where we once laughed, i read a book (you still a child) and tears - this weight of sadness slamming through me. i wasn't looking, but i found all these years. i brought them back. but it's only a shade of you, where you will never be complete again, half of your childhood smile hangs before my throat, closing up.

remember that night i was scared. i was always so scared of the dark, and i woke you up and i crawled into your bed, and we read books about goblins and talked about trains. i'll remember this always. and when we got a packet of glow in the dark space. planets and stars. i spent so many hours buiding it properly, because you could not build space properly. you never could. i touch those stars now and they no longer glow, cheap rubbed plastic, but how they ignite now.

i think of my dad, still young, the concentration on reading the tracklist (that cast bone of a smile, big toothed and thumping, now mine) paying sixteen dollars for a cd, his favourite cd he would ever own, a cd i would keep, so i could be so close to him forever.