Everything is wrong with us, from the mode you talk and the way I walk. We are bad from your ears to my fingers toes. And there are warning signs, friends screaming and your mother is crying.
It’s a recipe for disaster.
I can taste the blood before I kiss you and you can hear the crack of my bones before you hold me. We are named the third Titanic and it was like a premonition. And without trying to avoid it you hold my hand when I jaywalk blindfolded through avenues. And you light up my cigarette while smelling like gasoline.
My sisters are holding me back from you and your brother is taking you away. Because the doctors called us a new form of addiction, toxic and deadly.
And we are one step from punching our problems out and your words cut deeper than my knife on your skin.
The demons are singing to us and the angels are moaning in pain.
And the eclipse is happening, the screams are a crowd and dear they are bringing the fire. We are the catastrophe of a nation in despair, but baby my hands are burning up for your desire.
T.A.
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