yellow moon blue sky
in the forseps of the night, a lullaby can be felt burning into decay inside of you. when you sit in the bath in the dark, watching the water's edge, first mauve, then obscene against the black mold bathtub. any skin held above the lips of the water, feels the intense cold, but the water won't wrap around you like a blanket. and in the grim, pure, candy night, your body won't turn in the tub to fill it.