furious aesthetic and empty grace
like broken glass, like shattered inertia

holy roman emperors born and raised
in missouri gunned down, target practice

furious grace and empty aesthetic
like tear gas canisters, like shattered bone

hidden by roses laid down the highway
now ashen, red from embers, red from blood

the furious world watches empty screens
there is no aesthetic, no grace, in ******

Come with me, I said, and no one knew
where, or how my pain throbbed,
no carnations or barcaroles for me,
only a wound that love had opened.

I said it again: Come with me, as if I were dying,
and no one saw the moon that bled in my mouth
or the blood that rose into the silence.
O Love, now we can forget the star that has such thorns!

That is why when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine

the geysers flooding from deep in its vault:
in my mouth I felt the taste of fire again,
of blood and carnations, of rock and scald.

its 2:24am and I'm terrified that you have become the only drug i crave. before it was much easier, much more concrete, much more discrete. i could fill a void with a glass, a bottle, a joint. now the only mind altering act I crave is you next to me with your arms wrapped around my waist, your lips on my neck, your warm chest sheltering me. its so simple, yet so intriguing and more fulfilling than any drug I've tried. its hard to seem sincere... my whole life ahead. but right now theres nothing else i want. at first i thought i had it under control. but oh god was i wrong. the power that pulses through your touch is indescribable. maybe I'm just naive, but you can illuminate the darkest of thoughts. I think I've come to terms with it now, the power your touch has over me. All i know is before i wanted to get drunk off liquor and now the only thing that i want to get drunk off of is your lips. I never did believe in shooting stars , but you're starting to flip the ground I stand... and i think I'm ok with it.