As I lay in this couch, I feel a buzz generating. Low to the ground the bride and groom call out. Tasting the flies all around me, hoping to strike gold. They stay to feed, as they whither and die. The beast wants what it wants, and it makes few demands. Leech the soul from me, as I nibble through my heart. My vanity lives in shadows, whispering unknowns through the sheets. I live on the sandy dunes now, waiting till I thaw. As I sit in the air, wringing my hands bloody.
Fight on brave one, with love in hand. Stomping under the forest.