I wake up with dried blood on my arms and I blame you for it.
Since you don't have claws I invent them for you.
I grow them, lovingly, I keep them in shape. At night I tell them what to do. They don't listen. They are not like you.
I take measurements of your head when you put them on my lap.
I buy horns for you that fit from the supermarket of preventive measures.
You twitch in your sleep when I paint your skin red.
Flaming red, blood red, devil red.
You're dreaming about summer.
I decide you're dreaming about a hurricane
When I tell you I'll love you after the revolution,
You say you'll try to bring it faster.
When I tell you I need more time,
You cut the engine and wait out front.
Somehow this is worse than the dried blood.
Somehow this is worse than the pain, the ache and the red on my nails.
