This Sickness That's In Me
When I'm washed up with those feelings of loneliness
by Moth Harris
and when there is only this and we can't resist
the bliss of when we kiss but it only exists
when our eyes are trapped in the mist.
It's a twist of love and reminisce,
like the hiss in the midst of the abyss
that fell apart and went amiss.
while you were pissed
and I dawdled a knife to my wrist
while you were missed
the list of things that persist
tended to assist the clenching of my fist
and all the while time added to this rhyme
I quietly watched the girl that would reawaken my heart
waiting for her to be mine.