Testo Cloaks

Give us sanctuary in our dreams where red is so much redder and blue is so much colder. Kiss me once on the cheek with razor lips and watch as the blood runs down my face. The cloaks we wear are all the same, without warmth and without names. For all the threads that cross-stitch their way between our veins ( blue and red make a road map for our blood to turn itself into a game) into our hearts.