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