We were buried in the shade. Our eyes eclipsed and we sat up to find our hands bound and searing. The strings reached into a sky of imperial clouds. We were tied so tight i lost count of our pulse. They must have dragged us to the surface asleep. Shout unraveled: WAKE UP! Wake up! That sky is stealing our fevered hearts! but no one could hear us. No one, or they did hear us and pretended not to. So we staggered through the forest of string and over a lawn of arms and then the sound of shadows burning in silent spaces struck our eardrums. Hand in hand, we ran and ran and ran from a bastard sun that scorched and scoured. This disintegration would be our end, but the lionhearted held daylight back. The air stung bitter. Our blood pounded. We were awake and then the ground began to crumble upward. The horizon bled and concrete lost hold. Synchronic to you and me and when the ground retracted... you were still. Just keep breathing and take the gravel from her lungs. An instant dilated forever and what trembling hands could not hollow poured color from iris. This is where time fails and synapses perpetuate. Refract the sunfall and pull apart every one and every thing, because this distance is threaded in aether and all else is lost to memory. Bring us death and our black birds will escape gravity.