On the Christmas lights around the mantle
Now all the room is red but that comes out
As comfortable low harmless the red lights
Are mostly rose like my flower is rolls of
Skin and pressing the look into writing the
Scent of pollen from stamen the dark walls
Become this canvas again become a wandering
Finger the cotton is hugging tight I close
My eyes and embrace on the cushions

It seems there will never be too many times
Lying listing to Feng Suave rubbing against
Fake velvet red light it seems there will
Always be lengths to occupy the empty places
In the tired morning where only the shining
Screen keeps me from dreaming sweetness
The need to bloodshot eyes the surrender
The numbing blue light I thought had gone