tick tick... boom

did you relapse on your yearning?

greased up on opportunistic weeping

yet extracted under splintered duress.

are we cogged or are we turning?

rabbit holes never seemed so dense.

burrow down our love;

ransacked and tarmacked,

blanketed by a blur of disposition

which outfoxes even the

slightest misdemeanours.

and when the syncopated intrusions of your breathing persist

will my memory delay enough to raise a cease and desist?