Disintegration
"Holding my breath for the fear of sleep again"
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They begin me slow and steady, adding a few here and there. The ancient timing illusion created sweetly for a touch that I want more and more, and nothing less. There comes the tension and provoking desire to get to where I need to be. No urge that'd relinquish until the voice may so slyly take it away. There's no such morbidity that can smother me euphorically till it's enough to consider a crime. There's no such forgiveness existing to claim that this I've coveted will ever be returned. There's no such release enough for a tunnel infested of damned secrets. No such breathing that could live through a drowning. No such need.
There's no such anything, and you'd lie just like I do.
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