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Description
It doesn't matter how many times you say
"I love you", and "I miss you"s are just a practice in conformity-
don't color outside the lines, don't tell the truth, instead you
whisper words of no significant worth and she screams save our ship
but we're sinking too swiftly for them to fathom.

So splatter my veins across the sky to create tin-foil mockeries of
refracted light and don't look back because
those fading headlights are like a gravitational pull,
like a glowing exit sign in a darkened theatre and you
pull my strings with knowing expertise, watching the scenes play out
moment by crawling moment.

We paint our skin in jubilant abandon
until acrylics run with skin cells and the differences between reality
and masterpiece distort and fade out, with feathers in our hair
and songs in our mouths, an anti social dance with comfortable apprehension.

All the world is ours.
But we have nothing.

Description
It doesn't matter how many times you say
"I love you", and "I miss you"s are just a practice in conformity-
don't color outside the lines, don't tell the truth, instead you
whisper words of no significant worth and she screams save our ship
but we're sinking too swiftly for them to fathom.

So splatter my veins across the sky to create tin-foil mockeries of
refracted light and don't look back because
those fading headlights are like a gravitational pull,
like a glowing exit sign in a darkened theatre and you
pull my strings with knowing expertise, watching the scenes play out
moment by crawling moment.

We paint our skin in jubilant abandon
until acrylics run with skin cells and the differences between reality
and masterpiece distort and fade out, with feathers in our hair
and songs in our mouths, an anti social dance with comfortable apprehension.

All the world is ours.
But we have nothing.