Tiago's words
cut like knives
but oddly now
they make me feel right

Tiago's words
are way too much
but I scratch
I can see where possibly I am

They soak me like an emergency
They are made of three quarters pain
And the rest pure life.
Maybe Tiago is right.
His words are like light
In such a pitch black night

You could be using me
playing with me
A non-loving Humbert
for this ever nymphet
you'd be