I've been told about your scars.
That have never been spoken of, like problems in the vatican.
Like problems we have all, scars we all have.
You are killing me.

I've been told you have some pains.
In your muscles and bones that subconsciously stretch.
Like subconsciousness that stretches.
You are making my pains stretch.

I've been told you have now prints.
In your thumbs like passports for journeys.
So close I want you, all alone you travel.
You are killing me with your prints.

I've been told about you bursting.
And the rage that goes along, like some stars do at night.
Like stars that burst just like you do.
Your bursts that **** me, they literally **** me.