It’s the moonlight, it’s the night where

I feel liberated to descend the stairs,

Of high-key place, bass playstation

Of another day, I used to sneak out

Between the hours of chilling air.

I stand alone, I stand by the door

I always used to be, across the wall

you can hear the sound of tracing rain,

I sit again in the dark once more.

The houses— built-in— within four walls,

Mirrors a broken tale with their broken

tiles, and I watch the dubbed hammering

swung between space and space.

I remember a face so delicate,

in the murmured rain, fingers

Stretching the glass bars—

“You know the time where the flute

whispers of another dream.”

I could only shake my head,

share my perception on left-hand,

“Trust me, we’ll walk together.”

I did, before the storm could pass.

Thrumming the strings, attached

to get better and spun around

the words, we were running on miles

With the highs of whistling sound,

I knew once more than sea-water,

How it engulfed the tumultuous crush.

From storing breaks to the smoke

Of flashing lights, on another summer

dream— you became the melody,

in my grey house, with another

three despondent strum.

Life’s boat blast on reverberating waves,

Our tune became the first dawn of

burning house, to the choirs, to the

drumming rolls, another house

Built-in infinite sea.

And I drink the lump of void,

Watching the bubbles over delirious heat.

— August 20, 2024.