I'm holding onto dignity,
finding myself slide in ease,
losing continuity,
letting you flood into me.
And you use the opportunity
to savage me.

(Will we always scratch at
the lid and never dream?
Fixated with our failures..
saying things we don't mean.
Will we always be this?
A decaying sliding mass of
sugared rotting 'bliss..'
- a tasteless teething error,
a halitosis kiss.
Or will time renew itself
and begin to smudge it back,
and fill the rift between ourselves
and give us what we lack?)

J.H 05

Note: written in the very early hours… may need some of the format changing. If you have any suggestions let me know.