During Summer, I leave my fingerprints everywhere,
smudging the horizon on my bedroom window...

Cast the rod, rip the calendar apart,
you'll find your lucky number...

You spill poetry into your palms
like they're pills of salvation...

I say I want to place a period
behind your name, but everytime...

Nipping at incense, you filled the air.
Like an opium den - broken dreams...

The cutting of metal on skin oughtn't be ugly,
like veins in marble - cold feet on cold floor...

I fear fineliner on paper,
never began drawing because...

"What was high school like, to you?"
I was the rat in the labyrinth...

I want the world to consist less
of headaches, of less collars that suffocate...

Even the magazines are mocking me now,
smiling with romance like newlyweds...

Half-drenched hair.
the sky is bruised-black...

One -
we are strangers, reaching over...