if looks could **** i'd be slaughtering the masses and if these walls could talk they'd probably never stop laughing but if that ***** of a mattress should crack and leak the secrets of mine that she keeps in her chest- like tightly bound metallic coils- so help me lillith
i'll burn this house to the ground
i'd rather see all that i've built turn into ashes than to hear her voice rehasing all the whispers i'm slinging whilst fast asleep or how i cry in bed for weeks or the way i flinch when the sun crosses my face like a shadow i can't name
i'm a mess a natural disaster with whirlwind hair and a lightning strike pulse in a second-hand dress that doesn't fit right i'm fine i'll survive
but should you be the boy i find and i bring you home tonight just know that i'm better than alright know how very much i feel alive regardless of the subconscious soliloquies you unleash in your half-silence divulging secrets whilst you slumber
i wake like the waves lapping at a fallen empire's shoreline and quest to test your lyrical limitations and the possible personification of your breath and your chest heaving like the sea himself