lover, you burn my eyes open in the winter
as a branding iron presses into hide.
you've stitched your vision behind my eyelids
and soaked cigarette smoke into my clothes.

make me your casualty of war
and i will still love you in death.
i am a vagabond of the dunes
and you are the burn that scorches my feet.

you are calligraphy on a bathroom stall
you engrave your message into my mind
and pour gasoline on my unconscious being.
lover, throw the match.