Place.

It's spiraling down;
I'm biting my words like a wolf howl.
We say things that makes us lovers,
And I'll wrap up my books,
Leave them out in the hall till the morn.
Still I hold myself with tired eyes.
It's a sight I cannot show you yourself,
But these strangers remind me of the damage.
No I stole my Mother features,
But my heart is quickly yours in myriads.
My teeth taste the blood of my chords,
And I'm spiraling down;
Crying out like an infants shout...