The world will fold in upon itself soon,
the black-eyed sea will be hit by the moon.
The name of this place can now be whispered,
as long as your teeth do not part in hunger.
This is a school where the sleeping are wakened,
this is where the boys play at war,
here is the cliffside of lovers' despair,
next to the launchpad of bright metal dreams.
Here is the night where things aren't what they seem,
and a sunrise of chickadees' mournful notes,
there are words you will find on the doorstep
to weave into heaven's unchaperoned boat.
Go in and ride for your life,
narrow and wasp-eyed angels are waiting.
Happily ever after offer your hand
to the smooth and quickening clay of creating.
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