why can't we let our mouths devour eachother? why can't we turn those miles into inches, letters into breath, weeks into seconds? (we always said we'd return to the candy coated jungle) we always said that we would return to see what kind of orchard our heart seeds grew i know where the canaries go i know where the crows go so pick up the fucking phone i sent you a letter just the other day my friend it said "tonight my body is cricified across the cactus that our love grew. tonight black feathers float from the sky like it's raining lies. tonight my lungs are hanging from a telephone wire, choking on the static of a dial tone"