Of Glory This is the story of a summer night (or an autumn one) and looking at the city’s nervous system spread before us or sometimes just me and these lights (it looks like-) and the messy webs of stickers and spray paint spelling home on uneven bricks it is warm and I (we) feel alive. There are no responsibilities, in a park at 10pm, and our glory is nothing but an illusion in the fireflies but eyes bright and dewy skin and stupid jewelry allows us a sense of self erase the magnitude of. everything else it is a macro-lense-photo on kodak portra (star filter optional; sweat is shiny enough) you have to ignore the future, to truly feel the glory it’s too uncertain - but our power is now cobblestones lit up in the path of our laughter Wear tinted sunglasses on the tip of your nose with me Draw messy things and listen to bad music - when it’s dark out nobody’s allowed to tell you not to enjoy anything. I have shattered glass in my coat pocket that reminds me of the cemetery angel’s blank eyes I feel gold-red and icy blue with you Lio O.
133