My breath is but a whimper
A faint hollow sound-
Inspiration, passion
Where are you hiding?

October is the cruelest month
For nostalgia creeps at every corner
Following, lurking
Seeping through my unconscious

You creep into my nightmares
I just can't seem to escape
Anxiety, cold sweats
If I didn't like it id be lying.

For months, I've felt dead
I hate you, yet I crave you
You set my pulse on fire
Yet I'm the last to admit I want this.