I'm a heavy philosopher when I'm drugged up, I sing The General Specific in bed with the Elf Queen.

How many thousands of times did we make awkward eye contact,
And then receded out of our shells
To both ponder our crises with Sufjan Stevens sad verses falling out from the ceiling.

I've fallen directly in love with life in the nighttime.
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I'm sure that there was some cloud of fog when I slumped out from your room.
There was a physical haze I was trapped under
Trying to feed you harmony, melody and restore your confidence.

Reading your signals, it says your words don't match the hurting in your eyes,
And that scares me.

In reading the Russian legend of the Snow Maiden,
Doesn't she have to melt in the summer?

It's the delicate balance of nature that ruins any hope I conjure,
But with the temperature dropping below freezing
I'd just as well preserve my happiness
Until I can't control its thawing out
And imminent disintegration.

That, of all things, can wait.