The park is emptier than usual. The light is falling and the grass is already wet with dew.
Night is scared to cross the road a bit like me.
I haven’t cried in years.
The second mystery is girls, a mystery that will surely never unravel.
I dreamt today, and on the way down I took a long time without falling far.
People think the sun fell because of them, and them alone.
I’m razor sharp at this time sticky blood racing around my body I am fast fast faster.
My pale skin is a stamp of authenticity in a city full of pretenders.