"What's your name, pretty thing?"

"Tomorrow, you'll never catch up to me."

She told me she had leprosy.
She hated everyone, including me.
She spoke in seas of divine prophesy.
She said her new scars were scabbing.

I told her I'd eat her leprosy.
I hated everyone, but she intrigued me.
I spoke in droplets of dissonance.
I would pick her scabs with shards of glass.

I'll make you mine Tomorrow.
You will become my Everyday.