Wanting.

Same old story, you ought to know by now.

Low low low get me high high bliss that eyes above the clouds, hiss of wind, crisp blue & white a cold sweat but fresh but timeless, young, free.

Low low low I close off. Low, frozen I unfocus my gaze to see naught. I know in the end she fucks me. I know I’ll end up medicated & placated, dessicated or swollen. I know I’ll end up some kind of bum.

Low low low get me away. Swing low & swing me away, crescent moon, swing low.

I don’t even dream now. I don’t even see how to stop the process started for fun—for disctraction now nothing distracts me.

Pure white, wet sweat, draw blood, crack my shell, make me love, fuck me, leave me for dead.

I think I get the songs, now.

I think I’ll sing along, now.

Paralells of flesh and ice, it’s all the same end game.

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