Write My Troubles Away

Holding conversations on paper so you can't move the punctuation. You're a semantic arsonist. Catching hearts on fire with the twist of a word. Print this out and burn it to create your next great disaster. They just see a matchbook on the bathroom sink. I see the mirrors and a potential for smoke.

We are bricks on gas pedals. We are the ink on forged checks. I will make you mine and then forget you. My head is too crowded for the company. Can we go back to how it was?

I want you in my after 12am veins. Lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree.