sore throat
midnight gloat
winter coat
chocolate mud-cake
and a peach pud-ding.
he remains aloof.
see him go, poof.
nothing to be seen.
nothing to be seen
this scene is bloodless.
heartless.
emotionless.
nothing is brought
in between
i am to
give you up
entirely.
boring,
all of this.
we lament,
on everything.
almost every waking day.
we peer through,
to see,
if he was preparing,
for a grand showdown.
it never comes,
it never will.
how much deeper must we scalp, into his faculties,
how much further must we lose ourselves, into his being.
how much longer must i dance before you, i am tired.
i give up.
perkaraperkara 