Scraps & Thoughts

you
my paranoid obsession
me
a vector in your direction

//

The night brings a consumptive melancholy
Its fingers caress my skin like
A scalpel
Surgically removing what remains
from daylight

A tired terror drives
this apathetic synthesis of
dissonance and relief

//

“Oh we flee the scene of our little crime
We feel so free
But the hounds of the law, they bite our heels
As we retreat

If I clean my rocket
We’ll go flying today
And we’ll hit the pockets
Of warm and crispy air”
-M83