My rib cage craves bigger breaths-
quick glances kill my arteries.
maybe we could make something out of this
nothing,
one day.
cute kids are treacherous-
We won't speak.
tell lies
sharp looks
tear out hearts-
Our arrows with direction.
If these flirtations
don't manifest to something more
i'll live hormonally ingratiated,
deprived and wartorn sexually...
Yet these words despite their meaning,
these are empty words to me...
these are limericks
these are TV screens
it's the shiny things,
they stay
so impeccably addictive and
i shouldnt have started this
in the first place.
One day,
when the evening is not so twisted...
i'll speak to him
to finish this,
to begin it,
once and for all. |