If I think what I think what I think is going on, and it’s going on like this, that makes two bad applications for credit, Hitch, so hush up already and seal it, with a kiss, even though it’s probably not wanted.   He already got it, she saw him blink.  There’s a million images in that upsided sonnet.  Mix the rain him,  cutting out venom, no, not again.  Least it makes me feel living.  And I will live to see the emerald sea, it’s probably not even about me, how funny would that be?  Taking turns to abandon prophecy, masquerading Trojans at cyber locked gates, you would be all that I ever needed, but is my dream come too late?  Maybe I’m crazy, I am, I often thought you thought this. I’m not playing, you’re a monster, and what, I know it.  I would rather you be it, I’m asking you to devour me, because I am famished.  Collecting perfection, steamed up reflection, hiding scars beneath made-up correction.  I still lose my self in you.  It’s not the same, but sharing an identical end-game was something, well that’s what I thought, who knew?  Old in numbers versus young in the new.  I can’t think of any other way to stop missing you.  So I listen to your music.