where i come from, we wake up to white skies and press our ears to the radio praying for frozen roads and hot chocolate rewards. we see a ring around the moon and smell november's end. little feet prints get smeared under angels in gortex and we flap and fly as our breath silently dissipates into steel blue canopies. where i come from, the arms of pine are plush luscious dripping with symphony they carry the weight of my misunderstood youth. aural backdrops of how soon is now straight to hell bring the noise mind bombs. i am the son and the heir. each eve die behind your lids alone. always alone. cerebral novels of john hughes relationship fantasies writing themselves over and over in your exquisite little unleashed potential. now was not soon enough.

i was the great unknown. i was the master of observance and projection. i was the solution to your dilemma. i was the one who understood. i was defining cool and building landscapes into which i would sail. i was stealing plutonium for my rocketship breaking though sound barrier and judgement and kissing io and cassiopia. i will be dancing on saturn with a comet in one hand an unlimited use wormhole pass in the other. i will be sleeping in the creases of timefolds with dimension overlap comforters and supernova nightlights. i will be fluent in mandarin italian hebrew, the mortar of babel. i will teach you how to let go and be love. i will take you through solar systems beyond systems beyond borders and boundaries, dress sizes and magazine covers, you and me. i will show you the way home.

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