the night has fallen down the staircase and i, for one have felt its bruises equilibrium: inebriated our social graces have been displaced as we sink deeper into the drink, the volume increases... night time reurrects fault lines silent wars - rumble somewhere below the surfaces verses. the shoe is dropped lungs explode shards of words of a shatterd voice and there's still a hole where the phone was thrown the moon is rising a revolution i close my eyes and the room is spinning you're still screaming "sweetie, the moon has raped me- it's left its seeds like a tomb inside me." so i must learn to abort these feelings this romance is bleeding... night time triggers the land mines bedroom wounds - lovers like brigadiers marching two by two a soldier's down flood gates burst i've said some things i wish you'd never heard like, "there's still a hole where the phone was thrown." it's growing as we speak, and it's s**ing us both in a vacuum of sorrow to swallow up the day