His night shadow moves slowly
& causes some more destruction
as he lights another johnny player,
making god go further in silence.

My lover chains the moon to the earth.
Never sees light, only god
in the mirrors he’s buried in the ground
of deep rooted promises,

& I imagine…

His hands, a midnight stroke of genius,
his feathered pen weaving across
time in the sky waiting for his message:

A letter of a lover who can never be healed,
never be of the few bloodlines he has left,
the little blood he writes with
before going up in smoke.

Ashes, my lover, leaving me like the phoenix
when he knows its his last cigarette…

This is the lover who stalks my dreams.
This is the terrifying second-coming,
& christ, now I see him in the windy city
& how the wind gets wind of everything,
makes heaven in every slum for him.