PermanentInk

This electric criminal burns a hole through your skin like a needle's blazing chill. An intruder invited by silence, by the angle of your head, by your evasive eyes. Strange bird, I pin you down and you take wing. But you trail the wreckage of a thousand cages. I bait a trap with kindness, subject you to mercy, demolish you with softness, rebuild you stronger still. I am greasy from the presses, muscles sore from minting fragile bonds and stamping pain. But my kind of money's no good here. Will I steal what I cannot buy with heartsick coin? Shall I be a thief in your night? I know you never latch your window.

Content to be a sleeping dog; you would not let me lie. Or did I lie? Perchance did I just break your symmetry? And now we've struck the shouting match; it burns until it's gone. The flame will singe my fingertips, but I keep holding on. You can't save lives by giving blood that spills upon the ground. A house of cards, a gust of wind, the king of fools is crowned. But here's a piece of sage advice: don't wound what you can't kill. Don't think the river stops its flow when you have drunk your fill. And when you come galumphing back we'll see what's false and true. I'll be around, drunk on ideals, as wise a fool as you. For