I'm made of patterns, falling lights,
and there's not much truth here,
you see.
not much faith to go by.
when the clock winds down,
time draining away,
there are saviours in the burnt,
yellowed fields;
it smells so sweet here.
the message stretches on
for miles and miles,
each letter carved out of roots
and vines.

you smacked me hard across the face.
I've got the marks;
each finger dented my skin
with red.
I love you.
obviously.

close my eyes but can't block out the sun;
tune you out but can't forget.
if I slipped away right now
I'd cling;
in your arms I'd evaporate.

desperation knows no foe
like pure, sinful want.

when the needs melt together
and you can't tell a dry mouth
from a single, endless breath,
you'll want.
you'll crave.
I want and crave;
I lick but can't taste and
I reach but I miss.

outstretched fingers make pretty shadows.
come to me,
won't you?

don't be so harsh with me;
I'm so fragile these days,
so weak.

if you could feel the pulse
in my neck
against your cheek
I know a few words you'd take back.
I know how your lips would feel.

hold me until it's all out,
it's all done,
or I crumble and the wind
blows me away.

don't bury me.
please.
I hate the dark and the cold.
please let me stay.