I hear change jingle in his pockets
As he lifts off the floor
And a fall to my knees
My spine arching into
The depths of his breathing
I prefer the silence of his nails on my fleshy chalkboard
And the teeth that slit my suicides
I didn't like that shirt anyway
True love is bleeding
For no reason at all
But to give them something to look at

I like to speak in cliches
Because i don't care anymore
And i tear you to shreds every night
Because i want to know that you can feel me
So i'll need new tethers
And a new glass

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