if you show yourself to me 

i will disappear under the vastness of linen filled lines.

i will run through clouded streets until my legs give way. 

if you loan yourself to me 

the farthest hills out yonder 

arent far enough for me. 

the distance to be put 'tween us 

by me, 

must be longer than the wizened vines that grow from your mothers childhood home. 

must be wider than the plains out round the back of my grandmothers house

the sickly love sickness you give to me.

the bile, and acrin affection you have tried to burn me with.

they trickle through my hands.

my heart explodes for a sun that sings in a brand new sky,

and your acidic lust is a pooling, dark treacle that threatens to drown me. 

i need to look up at an once undiscovered universe and cry.

foolish as those tears may be, 

they will be for something worthy. 

they will be droplets of pride, for all i have ever done.

of sorrow, for all those i miss, least of all myself and the girls i used to be.

of sweetness for the adventures i know still gallop my way.

but not for you, my love, i barely understand you. 

i have never ever known you. 

you do not mean the stomach aches you give me.

and i cannot feel seasick on dry land, when my boat heads for harbour any such day now!