he reaches within her and pulls out tinsel and christmas amongst alibis of lost lovers and shipwrecks along shores cracked off the earth. she touches his chin and can taste mountains of empty bottles of spirits cast off from rooftops but land unbreakable into alleys made of tired bricks and devious mortar. i had been the pinnacle of success, he says and stretches open his chest so that moths can erupt from his sternum and take flight with dizzying turns into a sun that never sets nor rises, merely tosses and turns through this nightmare along the horizon.