Emily Winters                                                                                                                         

Rudimentary

Tomorrow,

  Tomorrow…

There’s always, there will always be more time.

Slowly melting like snow on the face of the sun,

The face of the clock is running away with you.

In love with being in love,

Only the feeling,

Never the feeling,

But I’m not quite sure of whom you’re speaking.

Peering through my spyglass,

Binoculars fogged up with such things,

With the breath of mad things…

Your exhale made me draw shapes in the glass,

And the marionette?

He was swaying in the wind,

And the hangman…

Oh he loves his noose,

He tied the rope into a little bow,

And he got himself all excited thinking about death row.

          A shot in the arm,           

The shot in the head,

                                                             I got shot in the heart…

But it’s just the feeling!

A feeling, a feeling, but nothing!

Loving just to love,

Dying just to die!