Lucida, obscura, snow. Battery of wind/six hours till dawn/long ellipsis/hand restless & onanistic night & nothing any fool can do. Stained I do not know if you are sleeping. To make a fetish to suffice: exhausting. Bottle seeds, room keys, wings of things I’ve sworn to never hurt yet when I sleep there’s something maned there. Roar. A pubic hair for my locket, a snowstorm for my door & my dears, I’ve lost too much. Let pink be the color of friction. Let haunting be the sum of touch.