© OCEAN | "The Thin Wild Duke woke up with his boots on. The stench of yesterday lingered through the room, bittersweet, like diesel and burnt tires. His knuckles were sore, and the scar from her mark was still visible on his chest. The dust swirled past the strings of the morning sun as his heels touched the wooden floor, and the door he never used was still open. He swept the dark coat over his shoulder to hide his battered wings and opened his mouth for his first breath. The black bluebirds whispered their song as he left the room. Note by note, beat by beat, he followed them downstairs, opened the front door, and stepped out of the blue and into the ocean. Calling for a prayer, calling for you.'Anything, but more of the same.'" /// M.
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