slice my heart with guitar strings and craft a song from the remaining pieces. make it cry. make it laugh. make it revolutionize the crumbling globe. make it a silk dream. make it kashmir.
your mouth is tattooed onto my skin. invade my body. make the bones into bridges and the cells into couches and the spine into a road and the lungs into a swing set. make this shell chromatic.
my heart is sinking into a pool of sap. i'm floating in a pool of ardor that engulfs me when you prick my lips with your warmth. i can feel the symptoms of cupid sinking in and tenderly spreading throughout my organs and within my veins. and although there are only a few months left, i won't mind if you stayed within my ribcage and became the sol of my psyche.
the wind is approaching, but sol is still beating his hands away. we can go above. past the clouds and farther up than the empyrean. the angels watch us as we drown in sin and they record it in order to keep it as a souvenir. the creator's son died for this. for us to be able to drink the forbidden juice, yet we can still douse ourselves with holy white and we'll still make it past the fabricated horizons.
you drain my subconsciousness and conquer every region. all i see is bursting cerise and warm brown and cleansed blue. all i hear is billie holiday and led zeppelin and joy division. all i smell is cheap records and green flannels and hot sauce. all i taste is the beginning and the end and you.
even if your body leaves, you will still be th-
