god we are romantics,
writing about the avenues of living.
within seekers,
it's not about me or she.
the point is sharp,
stabbing hearts through windows at night.
miss the future
before it passes by.
never knowing
is more dangerous than anything.
I'd rather be cold
than warm.
days of mayhem don't define us,
is that a wrinkle in your pallet brow?
reassurance is a hit commodity,
and I pay for it with credit.