i want to fall for the enemy
and feel their rough fingers
trace the rough scar tissue
of my cheek

i want to fall with the enemy
in love, together
so that neither of us
will know how to deal
with feeling (for once)
so painfully real

i want to bask in my audacity
to fall in love with the enemy
have mud on my ragged clothing
have mud and have self-loathing
and have the enemy

and have my enemy
craving my breath
on their enemy neck again

i want to fall in love
and have to be apart
and have to reunite
and have to conquer
i want to bite
kick throw punch push away
the ones who say
"you should not fall in love
with the enemy"

but it cannot be
and it won't be
this easy and nice

so now, the enemy leaves
and with me, there stands
the enemy's last hope - crushed
red love lingers on my hands

how can i provide for you, my dear?
if there's anything i have that you need - come on, take it
do you need a cosy bed to sleep in? come on, tell me
do you need a human chest to sleep on? come on, lay here

eyes red and dry like i've been crying
and hands reaching out to the hiding dangers
with careful steps so as not to wake up
my exhausted twin guardian angels
the devil's right hand clings to my belt
the sun sets so late in the summer
when the time is right and the sunset's nigh
give the dust i'll turn into back to no man's land
for now i crawl aimlessly on a floor like a desert
tenderly gripping the devil's hand

people roll around in trash
in greasy wrappers
and tangerine peels
they mosh and jump
in an endless garbage mass
a shard of broken glass
in their ash-filled air-pump
but they never for a second
struggle to breathe

it's one big waste bin
cardboard boxes collapse
metal cuts through skin
plastic sticks to the wound
glass is cold and sharp
the people, seemingly doomed
exist and pass energy around
with a loud spirited sound

people roll around in dirt
and when they're done
they go, they come back home

with specks of wind
whirring in their ears
stirring the desires
of their blood-pumping vessels
silver string in their hair
turns out to be wire

sweaty, red foreheads
with earth smeared all over
clothes green from grass
and greener from clover

people roll around in trash
people roll around in dirt
and so do i, don't you see
the obvious stains on my shirt?

i've been through nuclear winter
wishing to vanish, believe me -
wanting to let it consume me -
and no one suspected a thing

i've stifled every bone tremor
and denied every visitor
for nothing. a slow kind of death
with lucky days sewn into it

fragments of time are dissolving
every hour inside my head
leaving only outlines in dust
leaving all the damages done

the evil's been born already
across cold water, luminous
all of its wounds on the surface
all of its scars in their glory