Fags.

I wished
I was some kind of
bulletproof, immortal.
You know, the kind
that can last forever,
and never sleep, wandering in the alleys
of some lost cities.
Echoes of a cute voice,
calling the three of us "fags" wander deep into the heart
of some lost cities.
I sometimes wished you could
be lost forever. But I never really did.
And I'm sorry.
You never did go. That is great.
I never wanted you to get away from me,
embracing Death and Forgetfulness,
fully engulfed in flames, becoming gray and
faltering memories.
It's, you know, that kind of
feeling, whenever you become lost in
another else's city, when you become infinite
in another else's life.
It's kind of coming back.
De-dust.
It's time for some clean-up.
The walls are falling, the dreams are breaking apart.
Let's have another trip all together.
Let me feel neverended once more.