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Every time she tugs my sleeve
I can feel the ocean.
I swear I can hate you so much.

Only monsters here to haunt us are the
ones that went unfed.
Admittances, yes, such as
I'm usually more pleased with my accidents
than my intentions.

Or how I stumble over my history.
(She said she's never felt this way before).
It was always something I could never do well.

The bones mean less when the flesh keeps changing
You all look the same piled up in a shrine,
But still, I can feel that Autumn in November
even when it does not exist.

I am opening it.
Waiting for the day you'll want me.
Then I can finally get you oceanside.
To spread your muscles wide.
To close my eyes and forget.

It takes more than good memory,
to have good memories?
I will challenge.

History comes naturally, all we need is
help.
To keep me smart. On my feet.

Due credit. I don't have any money. And I don't want to be hated. Please don't.

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