it’s one or another,
between the smoke and the ink well.
i could see that you’ve had trouble sleeping.
and you’ll always be this way,
and things will never work out right,
and you’ll be caught in a loop of endless night.
in the end do you think all will be forgiven?
in the end do you think all shall be released?
i haven’t given up days
or nights in your soft embrace.

dawn, lady of the light
reveal my disguises
and let them set aside the fact
that i get addicted so quickly.
i’ve inscribed our names on driftwood
kissed and sent so far.
but the earth is a sphere
bringing everything back to the beginning.
and now we are like tow ghosts
lingering in hallways
instead of finding secrets in each other’s arms.

my mother named me after the tornadoes
that spin with such violence they’re venerated, not feared.
my, what violence has been brought these days
a scattering of cicada wings
and rose tinted smoke
and the blood that marks the spin of the moon,
the one celestial body you can love me under.

"and i’ve got a big fat ******* bone to pick, with you my darling. in case you haven’t heard, i’m sick, and tired of trying."

you should’ve stayed a stranger.