Laying in a cabin full of corpses.
i ignore it because i'm dreaming
of you and me on white horses.
hand on white shoulder it rests.
skull to your vision of adonis, i look.
now i regret the things i had said
and the words poorly written
in our bursting black book.
elegant horses turn darker,
the sky begins to talk.
the vision of us melts
just like the time
you watched me welt.
my dream soon ends,
and dead hearts commend.
the cabin is lifted;
scooted and shifted.
