anamnesis.

as a general rule, I outline their bodies on my bed before we get at it
impersonation and transference
you never had a chance baby, she's taken up residence in my cells
like celestial shorelines and my decaying, elliptical orbit washing you up on the sand
you smell like saltwater and solace
my arms around you,
it feels like abated atom bombs
like we just stopped the world from ending and apocalypse is in purgatory,
The Devil is in bullet-time,
and we just wanna make love.
not monomania, just my heart and yours.
I told myself I don't have to get high to write
I just have to let myself get captivated once more
like pushing myself off a never-ending staircase
I just keep falling,
my perspective is ruined,
if only I wasn't one huge nerve ending.

I'm convinced my entire career in the arts of affection has been an extreme case of somnambulism.