Bleeding trails, a map to everywhere you’ve ever been.
Seeping in from beyond the boundless fringe
you cannot be sustained, and won’t be washed away.
You light an abandoned fire in someone else’s yard.
That’s how they get you.

I’m crawling out of your backward temple.
It’s too cold for me and my stubborn bones.
That’s how they get you.

Filthy and pale, you fall from everywhere you’ve ever been.
You sleep with enemies behind a clouded lens.
You cannot be sustained, and won’t be washed away.
You fuck like an abandoned car in the courtyard.
That’s how they get you.

The thing about once warming moments;
you wrap yourself ‘round and around,
trying to bring down in one swarming motion,
a blackened tide of ruthless new clouds.
That’s how they get you.

By sweet stabbing motions the river ends
and brings you an ocean of hidden friends;
calm and bloated.
In self-defence, I go through the motions.

I’m crawling out of your blackened temple.
It’s too cold for me and my stubborn bones.
I’m falling out of your blackened windows.
Forgive me, if I follow you home.
Right…

By sweet stabbing motions, (I should have ended my…)
the river ends, (I should have mended my…)
and brings you an ocean (I should have ended my…)
of hidden friends; (I should have mentioned my endless obsession
with counting the blessings of everyone I have watched die.)
calm and bloated.
In self-defence, I go through the motions.

Bleeding trails like a map of everywhere you’ve ever been,
seeping in from beyond the boundless fringe.
This cannot be sustained, or washed away.
You light yourself on fire in someone else’s car.
That’s how they get you.

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