Fair Ray Tale of New York
Your amber locks dance into the suburban New York skyline.
I wipe the residue of accelerant from my hands and onto my grubby fatigues. Experience tells me the smells will linger under my fingernails for days to come.
Your movement is that of a ghost, an apparition, a fair ray of light echoing in the sunken night sky. A tale is born before humanity. A tale of death, of life, of warmth and never-ending cold.
I watch. Unblinking eyes focused entirely on you in the abandoned warehouse. In peripheral vision, voyeur skeletal towers gape open-mouthed.
You long to multiply, like all living things. Our bright children spark into the inky night; swarming parasites devouring darkness.
I long to embrace you, but that can never be.
You cascade and reflect on my bloodshot eyes. I will leave you when you are old. For my new love is only a matchstick away.