We are hatred and hated.

We are the bastard children of love. The offspring of accidentals full of summer's heat. Mindfucks and heartbreaks waiting to happen to be happened upon.

Waiting on nights of smoke and mirrored lightning to make the world a better place to perceive.

We touched hands once, our souls and stomachs all blue with liquid fire, and our words came, almost and stumbling, our eyes were full, definite, and blazing.

I staggered in my madness and you cried out in your drunkenness, and we were the same animal, the same damned platypus ducking and dying with its mind all strung out and its eggs all laid. If only we could remember how we wandered . . . How we nightmared and wished on the water that belonged to those with better things to do and not to do.

The dark in your eyes was sleep.

The whole thing was almost a crime, and I was guilty.