Flustering crumpled leaves flutter by
Colours darkened and faded regally
I close my eyes, inspire the fleeting moment
Afraid to set eyes on the scene in front of me

I know as soon as I wonder it’ll fade away again
Can’t I just clutch tight to that teetering precipice?
Epinephrine drowns my rationally, preys on me
I’m hostage to the syndrome of Stockholm’s cruelty

You part your lips, you gasp suddenly
The vision draining all your serendipity
Yes, I know the sepia facsimile that haunts your creativity, blindingly
Because I catch myself as you from beside of me

Am I half or am I squared? Am I a fraction or am I multiplied?
All these disparate versions of me
I’m an agonising washout in the game of definites, but I take a bit
It’s not swindling when you’re stacking the numbers that define reality

Well, who knows what’s in your charmed breast
It’s just swollen with vacancy and adversaries
I wish I could stem the haemorrhage of envy and wannabe
But sickness keeps the bloody ichor surging endlessly

Envision for a moment that pulsating crimson was not a rare commodity
Envision like the atmosphere we breathe it phases in and out simply
And you’re dealt a mortal break that stitches cannot darn
Well that’s how the She feels inside of me

She is ghoulish and sublime and ostensibly divine in all
As her mind is guarded and her eyes unfasten to the sight beside me
The leaves are gone, the trees are bare, the world is grey in the front here
And we weaken and collapse into that usual dulled fantasy.

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