I want to throw my phone at the bottom of an ocean
Corrupting salt for corrupting tears that stale my words
And choke my heart [without ever having appeared]

I would that it met the depths and reached the bottom
Cos I am still trying to get to the bottom of this
When pulled at the roots, the root reappears
Harder to pull as we further in years [please wise us to the sun]

I am in love with an idea, today with your ear
All mine to whisper in, to bite and tell you two tales of love
To contain my passion to show the love within my heart
If not poured out will drown itself amass

And inconsistency will be my epitaph.

This is my fear.

//Claustrophobic.thoughts.
compound.this.crucible.
to.the.edge.of­.combustion.
...she...will...explode.//

a misery
is sort of like
a scar

you trace
it every so often
to see
if it is still
there

and when
it reassures you
that you have not
moved on

you are relieved
for that one
moment
you can
stay there

'friendly fire'*
s t i l l   h u r t s

nothing, nothing to say
nothing, nothing to prove
nothing, nothing to lose
                 ...  except for you