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the night has fallen down the staircase
and i,
for one
have felt its bruises
equilibrium: inebriated
our social graces have been displaced

as we sink deeper
into the drink,
the volume increases...
night time reurrects fault lines
silent wars - rumble somewhere below
the surfaces verses.
the shoe is dropped
lungs explode
shards of words of a shatterd voice
and there's still a hole where the phone was thrown

the moon is rising
a revolution
i close my eyes and the room is spinning
you're still screaming

"sweetie, the moon has raped me-
it's left its seeds like a tomb inside me."
so i must learn to abort these feelings
this romance is bleeding...

night time triggers the land mines
bedroom wounds - lovers like brigadiers
marching two by two
a soldier's down
flood gates burst
i've said some things i wish you'd never heard
like, "there's still a hole where the phone was thrown."
it's growing as we speak,
and it's sucking us both in
a vacuum of sorrow to swallow up the day