empty texts;
stalling for
the words we
lack to actually
say,
standing for
the longed after
trio: i-miss-you,
that we have forbade
after we gave away
what was built
and what was made
on our ground.

i crave the
i-miss-yous
and i crave
your scent
and your touch
but dont mistake me:
not the recent, but
i crave the touch you
once possessed, when you
invested in the rest
of your life.
instead of your now
obsessed, depressed touch;
addicted, submitted,
your desperate touch
for acception of
all of your regrettable acts;
for acception of all your
acquired repulsive habits
ruining you.

oh  baby ,  dont  you  see  they're  ruining  you?