Your simplicity is complicated, and is complicating
my thoughts, tangling them like a web
smashed through by a child's hand. I'm hallucinating
hope these days, which I never did before, because they hit
the floor hard who climb too high - they crash, and feel life ebb
out with love and blood. You seem to make so much sense
that you don't make sense at all - and - (I feel a bit
light-headed)
- and -

The darkness fills my eyes; a sticky tar covering
covers them up and keeps the oxygen from my head. I see
nothing but nothing and you, and I feel your presence smothering
my sense so I can't make sense. You don't make sense - though
you do, because all you are is yes and no and simplicity
and that and this - and this is how my thoughts go
when I'm with you - and - and -

This is what you do to my head.