pipe down pipe down, the too strong feelings went away like smoke, i love you on the regular dose now can't tell whether i feel relief or fear think i loved the idea of you too much but im good with me now calmer alone, you are the wind that makes the flammes burn a bit brighter and not the whole fire, i am the whole fire.
French hysterics. Off the deep end in chasm. Manic. Sequence fathom through the room light. Dreadful. Sarcastic rummaging through cheek bones as papier-meche. Quiet. Rubbing eyes. Folding Sweatshirt to tunneling tunes that keep you alive long enough.
Have to forage for words that I can weave into cogent verses that sound sublime. Try to hatch a suitable scheme to rhyme, strain my murky ideas through a sieve, count syllables – my secret pauper’s peeve. Must stop watching this TV show and climb out of bed. Holy smokes! Look at the time! I need to start writing now, I believe.