after this establishment crashes
and kills the masses,
we’ll spill the ashes like fallen lashes,
make a wish and watch it vanish..
we barely managed to bury the hatchet,
burned all the passages over troubled water mattresses
with perfect matches.
hurts to imagine this planet without your magic,
i took for granted the time we had,
and now i’m standin’ empty handed.
but that’s the standard
for an asthmatic hopeless romantic
who counteracts the panic attacks
with smokey habits.