let's pull a quixotic line or two
something about grand gestures and the joy of existing with you
let's pretend you don't fidget when you walk
past strangers and you never eat in front of them, too
let's put on an act of spectacular proportions
i'll be the rancorous poet and you my beautifully shattered subject
i am watching you bleed
i am watching you bleed
let's assume you don't mean it when you say the world
is ending and you can feel it in the very marrow of your
bones; are you sure your feelings are yours, my dear?
let's overlook the dreams in your bed, the asylum where you bled and bled
and every part of you inside me is kicking, screaming
i want out
i want out
this desperation; it's a curious thing