Slowly decaying.

Alone.

I am only thirteen pale moons shadowing half of Neptune's face.

You are one Tinkerbell jar with innocence within,

Painted against the black oil night sky.

I am thirteen carnelian Pacific monsoons,

Swimming with anger.

You are one demon,

One demon that has engulfed the Molotov cocktail,

Of my innocent Tinkerbell jar and combat boots.

I am thirteen freckles,

That only two souls has ever seen.

You are one of seven billion souls,

Who have seen thirteen hidden freckles.

You,

And I...

We are two souls intertwined within sin.

Two souls in a Tinkerbell jar.

I am thirteen disjointed tongues,

Deprived of oxygen,

Turning onyx.

I am wasting away,

I am salvaging the twine of arteries,

Wrapped around the grapevines of thirteen moons.

You are a million triggers,

Embedded beneath my flesh,

Like government microchips tracking,

The pacing of my pulse.

We,

Are nothing but human bodies,

Full of holes and craters,

That can see the worse,

Than iodine poured into weeping wounds,

Percolating frothing in the frost beneath runs of tights,

We are alone in this world...