Sinew stretches and stitches us all together— and — is it true I and you and me can never — she stands at the door eyes like iron in failing light and We can never — nerves are snitches; why — her choice in the pallid light a silhouette in the door — this is not not this is not thisisnot this is not a cry for [help]
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Coarseness is its own reward the scrape against pallid skin wipe the sweat from - your brow disease-disease-chews draws blood to - the skin iamscared helpmehelpmehelpme
Her finger — pressed to my lips and I found rest.
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
- Precipice one foot above - the juncture there - with the sweep of wind - a challenge to - weary muscles - fair do we place faith in air - or - step back - feel the rush of blood through veins - knowing wolves - are there?
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//
Hard it is to believe a liar’s lark - with dust’d age could so easily be made - to reside between - acceptance there ‘Can we hold one accountable - for his age?’ - or rejection fair - ‘She speaks ill - of course - for fame’
as if both aren’t the same venom’d decay
//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//