I stepped into a compartment of the morning
I've never felt: the heart of dawn so heavy
with such a muted color palette!
colliding with the sadness of the days first inhibitors
the drunks are almost asleep and sadness is laying low
waiting for the afternoon to bring up the mistakes they made
in the shadows. the mistakes only true light can expose.
as a heavy fog comes so suprinsgly
i glance in the mirror to rescue my face

I take a pile of this,I collect a pile of that
and im wearing 12 different sweaters
just as the woman who wears all those unusual hats
I just cant stop pacing as I do these routines
thinking: Usually I sleep through his sadness.

And the operator is breaking all the rules..asking: what do you need this number for exactly?

I am sad and there are too many clouds...who who who are you?

I put my piles in a basket and light them on fire
like a match with a jumpy foot
waiting for his destiny.

As I brush my hair for the first time in weeks. I drift.
I remember the dream:
I walk in the front door
to set my own house on fire.
however the snow prevents it
and all we can think about is nearness
the addiction of laying side by side
the obsession of a kiss.
a body filling with feathers or with snow
asking: and who are you to strike this match
inside my heart inside my soul
like this like that
you are plotting out our double death
my face is turning hot
because your touches are deliberate
He was burning me down now;his weapon being nearness.
you are killing this house
like this like that
the obsession of a kiss
the concept of-skin.

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