Your love is an inclement shadow

gasping rhythms

on the dust-ridden floorboards

of the house with the rickety

white picket fence at the end of the road.

-

Your eyes are flashlights

shining too bright

into my face and blinding me

from the world around.

-

Your touch is ten thousand volts

of electricity pulsing through my veins

like a horde of rodents

attacking my body from the inside out.

-

Your very existence

torments me to the brink of a violent

insanity that hovers

ever-present in my mind.

-

It is most

certain

for you to be

the

downfall

of me.


This is what happens when I write a stream of consciousness at midnight. Yeah.