i like to watch the badgers strolling through the night

such a lovely creature with stripes of black and white

underneath the moon looking for a treat

something nice and tasty that he loves to eat.



roaming through the fields the hunter of the night

such a lovely creature such a lovely site

i just love to watch them it brings joy to me

just to see the badger with there life so free.

Would I feel like this if we could reverse time and remember our future?
Would I still carry around my braking, aching heart waiting for you to leave?
Would I stop replaying scenes in my head like the first time we kissed and laying awake all night to hear you breathe?
Or would I instead think of how you set my heart on fire and left me to watch it burn?
Would I read about it on the news?
Watch as media frenzied scavengers lapped up the blood, selfies with the body of a girl who loved to much!
Even in this warped world, where my rose thorn tongue grows around the 4th dimension.
I'd hold on to my last memory, of meeting you for the first time.
My swollen heart and pregnant mind would long for you, a longing that started on that first kiss.

You are my antiparticle.
We are destined to collidide and when we do, you will annihilate me!

Another nail through the palm of my hand, another label for you to wrap your ghastly mouth around
The words ‘beautiful’, ‘****’, ‘love’ burn into my skin like I’m caught in an acidic thunderstorm.
You pin them into my fragile flesh like notes pinned to a corkboard of advertisements.
Butchering my body and sedating my soul, objectifying my existence, object of your desire.

You frown at the way I can drink whiskey without flinching. and every time I tell you. honey. I don't drink alcohol for the taste. If I did. I would have the taste of your smile down my throat every night. I would have every memory of us bottled. And I would drink them whenever you were gone. Which lately is a lot. so lately I drink more. the warmth of the whiskey when it hits my insides reminds of the first couple months with you. When you were sure. When we were good. When I was enough. Now I can't drink enough. Now we don't talk enough. Now is different. The only time I feel you. The real you. Is with my clothes on the floor. You get your fix. I'll get mine. I'll **** the stress out of you. And I'll drink the sadness out of me. The sadness you fill me with with how empty you leave me. I'm addicted to this whiskey. And to the way your hands grip my throat.