We don't write he and i
we don't write, he and i
we don't write, it's a lie
we don't sit; wonder why
we don't really, really try
but a scratch on my eye
and a cold, measured sly
won't stop us fomenting
won't pry our relenting
can't help preventing
a touching monument
a quick uncomfortable embrace
fears prevalent
in every motion
in all our breath
shared imagery
cut-dry over-cook
tired like a vase that's hated by its home
angry like a bruising shin
foaming at the mouth like a door that slams behind you inconveniently
morbid and binding darkly and blinding;
cutting essence essentially strutting
flying by night breaking truths with harder dares.
