I put a seashell in my ear
and listened to the ocean seep into my brain,
and while it past through my eyes,
I slipped away from this desert.
I fell into that half-a-coma
of blue.
There's wind-chimes out here.
They dance in the summer rain
with their bare feet
slapping the hot concrete,
praying a little too loudly for
some snow.
Sometimes, we forget the rose-buds
that we gripped tightly to
in the sheets of the night before
when insomnia was playing hide-and-seek.
That's when we get sick, baby doll.
There's a papercut on my paper heart
and with the salt water flowing through
my ice-blue veins,
I burn through it like acid.
Burning out of this winter night
like acid.
