Swift and narrow the light.
No cigarettes.
Just some dust-filled
early summer
crammed with insignificant, nameless stars.
All of a sudden
the music stopped
and we distinctly heard
someone loudly speaking about the end of the world.
Silky, ripe fields
were lingering beside our bodies.
While the night dimmed, we both saw
the drained breath of roses,
but simply
kept silence.
Then everything blurred:
the translucent blood of the spider
filled our veins.