Your love is a violence I've learnt to love.

Too harsh for a melody,
to feeble to be worth a shout,
so the words lay upon their grave
of poetry.

The painter never
runs out of ink. He paints till
he knows he must bleed.

The day is broken
And the night knows of naught
But to follow suit swiftly

And soon, in a shattered dream
I lay beside the fragments of sun and moon
My feet do not tremble on their corners
My blood runs through the lines of time

When you are one with nothing
Are you trapped in extinction?
Or are you finally free
In the sunless mornings
And moonless nights?

The things you’ve said
The things that happened
Burned in my memories
I close my eyes
It all plays on repeat
Like a broken record