in love with ideas, with love, with crying,
with tears and tears
and baskets down river, up stream, full of futures,
lying next to cold bodies,
crafting hollow shells out of oak cabinets,
in love with the sight of a mud slide
that i'm in the direct path of,
sumptuous banquets at my wake,
sweetly made promises of an end
promises made to myself
in the cold arms of the night,
sweet promises of ghost written novels
and sell out shows.
as this all slips and comes to blows.