on the outside again.

the iscles like trees.

show me my reflection,

like rotten summer leaves.

the pain makes me numb,

the cold makes me sleep.

and i think of you,

while the iscles weep.

if my lips fell on yours,

this pain would subside.

and i’d dance with you,

in the lowest of lights.

we’d welcome in death.

as long as we went together.

let him carry us on,

to the peaceful surrender.