once again
you're flashing me those blues
and i'm remembering why i'm wasting days
if i had the nerve
i'd drain
all your beautiful
all you're good for is burning bloodstreams
each movement makes music
a chemical touch that would send
shocks
but you're destined for display only
the most i could hope for is to smear the glass
these heavy fingertips
leaving
trails of scattered skin and cracked porcelain
tell me what i haven't got
because i'd kill to get it
tell me what i haven't
got
don't tell me, he's got it
who's on the receiving end of those perfect lips