the angels kiss our souls in bliss measure the extent of a dizzying descent

[empallin]

living in the abandon

we could prenten its all ok
and that first time
was just like the first time
of all the things i could have said
i am sorry was what came out
as much as it still hurts
i still remember
but now it all seems like a skin
to a frame that was never there
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that quiet click
as your you dry lips seperate
slowly seperating tissue
that masks the desperation

something old
someone knew
someone burried
and you untrue

those single stray hairs
captured by the light
raising the resistance
the way you raise the lie

something told
someone new
someone borrowed
and hearts gone blue

patches of dry skin
at the top of your nose
hold a lifetime of stories
of eyes that missed the show
. . .
its the little things that get me
and the little things that stick
the little things i got lost in
that constantly make me sick