pigmented.

dear bird boy,
you are fluttered wings and burnt leaves, auburn in the moonlight, flailing scarlet in the sun's halo. you will set this town alight one day, and coward-
i will not be here to put you out, i will only chase you to douse you further in petrol, for hearts have died in the logic of your menace.

--

dear bird boy,
you are pornographic in your historic illusions of death, you have plagued african children with famine and surrounded bare isles in shrapnel. you are destruction in its plainest form, and i cannot hold your hurricanes in my bloodied hands any longer.

--

dear bird boy,
today you took flight and our eyelashes shattered from the explosion of stars dying for us. look to your left arm and your right knee and beneath layers of pigmented ivory and ruptured caramel, there is star-dust scattered, rusting for your memories. your feathers fluttered and rustled as the ground shook with exhaustion. The world fell out of the sky and our eyes dropped to the floor, god damnit we were ashamed, drawing breath labouriously from exhaust pipes on dying cars, we attempted to raise our pitiful morals to meet your violet eyelids, alive with the burning desire to save something, we were cowards; we were never built to survive.

--

dear bird boy,
they clipped your wings and our hearts crashed as we watched you fall, crashing into a cage of carbonite columns and cracked sulphuric edges. you were superior in your flight and in your lust of cauliflower clouds, but you couldn't sustain their envy as they built machines to replica your grace. finally the skies became stormy as they caught you, your dismay ripped apart the sun, and the horizon turned blood red. you were never meant to be a prisoner, and bird boy, we were never meant to love, but we did and you were.

--

bird boy,
vultures peck at my irises shrouded with violent complications, i miss you in your exotic continent, you sold your heart for freedom, making a claim of the clipped feathers that you adore and the clouds that you call home. I envy snails with their trails and glittering submission; i couldn't search for you even if i wanted to. you distracted the cracks in our facade and left leaving colder days of may and sliced movements between the paving stones.

--

cher garçon d'oiseaux,
pour tout jours, j'ai aimé vous, mais je suis allé maintenant.

je suis désolé amour,

toujours,
moi.