Our home is a deathbed

I can hear your voice, its like a siren repeating. "These walls are waterlogged with the weight of a childhood, The secrets we keep in the drawers of our dressers. We slept in beds that were...

It was a headache that woke me up, a motor running in the garage, The knife left in the median where west met east and I walked between. The lights left off in my room, and the empty bottle clanking...

When you hit the water, I hardly knew. When the sunlight changed, through the waves, you say, there was a song it sang. I still say I could see what you saw that day. How the lights were so different,...

There's a gentle wind catching me. You're calling my name and it feels something like home. I can feel the quickened pulse of an open door, the calm of a quiet bed. I can feel your arms pulling me in.

And I sweat out your fever dream, but it's heat's still painted on me. I wear you like a sketch of an incision, a cut not deep enough to bleed. If there's an honest answer out there, its that I've...

There's a heartbeat in everything, and I'm holding my hands to the wall. The feeling won't come easy but it's the fire underneath that I want. And I can feel the flames crawling their way up the sides...

February forgot me, and I swore, myself, I wouldn't give my conscience the chance to look back. But if you're asking me now: I'd rather see you as the ice in my veins, so I could watch you until you...

My bed hasn't seen me since the young summer sun watched our cruel blood drive ahead of us, with its hold on our wrists, cold steel and clenched. Two years of warm moons behind us, and I've made deep...