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found it in the strangest bit of peculiar - falling from nothing to almost through melodies we didn't know - balanced by the chaos of uneven tempos.

he wanted to experience love scraping at the corners of a brittle vessel. wanted to learn of four white walls and a hollowed chest - the language of agony in every tongue i had to give. thought it would be

this was comfort in another making unwanted discoveries of conscience. had me thinking this mind is not mine alone - that my hands are more than weakness took for bone. how heavenly it would have been

i’m running out of things to tell myself it's getting just a little much too loud i used to hate the silence, i’d give my last breath for it now

so you’ve gone and found that i’m not the song you thought i was baby you were the one who told me you could pick at these untuned strings til your fingertips fell to the goddamn floor i think this sound became a little too much like yours you never learned how to cope with the likeness of the hymns we’ve been humming in our sleep

sits there and questions my existence as if we were not made of the same exact thing. questions something that he already knows the answer to but swears by "ignorance is not bliss", don't tell me you don't feel the synchronicity of our souls when you f**k me amidst the hazy confessions of our lungs this is not a figment. you chose our fragments. tell me that my hands are always cold you'll lick the flames off of my tongue instead. speak as if you're not a religious man i feel the urgency in the traces of your mouth that worship these edges of mine as if each time is the last. you can't hear anything but the door slamming shut - we are not in a land of saviors these ribs are every bit as damned as yours my love.