i don't love how you speak my love language;
i just love every language you speak.
i'd let my heart fumble over foreign words
as long as they come from your lips.

Let me go, like letting the ribbon slip through your fingers, your eyes watching the balloon dance in the breeze before disappearing into the clouds.

For now the winter bites
Breath stolen by the cold fingers
Of the nights frost
Hanging in the still air
We shall return to our motherland
Victoria is the name
Pressed onto cracked lips

Let the fire of saviour burn tonight
As we prepare
For thine enemy shall taste
The cold arrows
Peirce the breast of harlots
As we march

Bear skin warms our back
And norse songs pound inside souls
Of brave warriors
Beneath the silver moon

March march march
Until this land is free again
And we return
To the love of the
Summer angel

I've never felt the comfort of being comfortable enough to be me
...
Do you know what that's like?
...
Like floating dead center of the deepest sea
...
And trying to ride a mangled bike
...
Like climbing to the weakest part of the tallest tree
...
Then stepping out to start the hike
...
I can't locate the key to unlock any different reality
...
Try as I might
...
So I struggle significantly to just be the Jeremy others want to see
...
When I don't even know if that Jeremy is someone I like

©2024