you make my blood running like a fish flock
through my hands to my chest
into dreams of the darkness beyond.
i want to eat your breath and feel it inside
like the echoes of whispers
of my inner secrets.
let's say i want to get you down on the floor,
out of mind and control,
getting colder, but headily naked.
we'll get this room filled with whispers and blood
that is spilling now out
of our guts when we're creaming.
i can be your apple-peach ashtray
if you'll be my menthol cigarette.
we can fill this place with smoke and ash -
you will hit my snare, i'll blow your crash.
crash, crash, crash, crash...