LE RENARD ET L'ENFANT.
It's life on the run. It's falling in love and being shot. It's chase scenes that end in shooting stars. It's having eyes, having ears, having feet, crying into the night. It's walking on the tips of your toes, one step ahead of the next step. It's your tail being your tale, recorded, and where you keep all your hidden power. It's a criminal record you never knew you had. Living life a world apart, closed-up someplace where spider's silk floats like a dream through breaking ghost fingers. In the setting sun. Burning or glowing, bound to face another fear on the battlefront, cosmic debris setting off chain-reactions in the East. It's having a pearl. It's losing a pearl. It's looking everywhere to find it again. It's digging holes for no reason. Burying everything, hoping time will take care of the rest. All that heaving and hurting and blood in your mouth just to keep yourself alive to love again. Because you know Love is worth every pint of bleeding / every broken glass tooth / every grave you ever knew. And it's a hard knock life worth living.