Sad Labels: manic
there's the bile of touch. rising from deep inside. scorching every breath.
expectation. the quick venom of the bite. we're only as real as our diseases.
there are colors. in every promise. jagged rocks underfoot. painful paths that take us to a paradise that doesn't exist.
the gap despairs. we're so lost we think we're already there. we're so arrogant. we think that it will come to us.
the pause insists. we will resume again. vague courtesies of love that do us no favors. .
we're so nervous. soft in our skins. shallow puddles gathering beneath fallen bridges.
it doesn't hurt anymore. but i know that it should.
life moans and spits. indifference making us strong. but always. again. the cold comes. and we huddle in the warmth of our weakness. brittle hearts embrace the wind. eager to be broken.