I see fingertips in the dust From the last time I was suspended on this ledge. This blood has burned deep streaks in me, My scars throb with the heated drumming.
I always knew you’d be the one The one who would leave. I knew it from the beginning. And I decided to dance with you anyway. So, This is Love then. Solitude & memories,
We were right about where we came from. The spit & fire, nails & razors, The lashing of bicycle chains behind the knees, Father’s handprint bruised to the side of my face.
The miracle cure has come. But – What if Jesus himself looked you in the eye? Whether in the beginning, Your own genesis, bathed in sweat Wrapped in heated blankets
When you sleep without dreaming In the arms of your beloved – Only then with the sun return. Perhaps you will remember me kindly, In my forest of bloody dreams,