shakey hands

[jakemac]

falling asleep of the stairs
darling dear i'm so scared
our faces are the catalyst
our eyes know no hate
sweep your toys from my being
sweep your toys out our door
and a house
so mute
and a fever
106 degrees, but i've no sweat
sweep us off the stairs
walking around a town built of chatter
bribed by a bright light
into a blindness appreciative
of our numb lips and eye lids
we've been writing our stories
on the blankets
and in this autumn we're starting to need them back
for a warmth
for some warmth
we need some warmth