... So eloquently they used to speak until I asked the questions that broke them into ghosts. That bled me into a corpse with so many questions of my own for the soil but they're tongues do not know simple. The things I should be hearing, the things that will make us living men in this time of insatiable yet dying lovers. When a boy tells you he loves you, only to become silent like a crumpled sheet of paper. Not wanting you to decrease him into the truth. Do not crack your face into the fullest crescent moon of the tapered bottom of a blackened sky. He never meant a single word of any of it. He is just a boy... remember?