Suspended, fragile from the threads, every depth they can't fathom
Still dressed in cast-offs, I could be china
Sometimes I burn within air, but then they're always as far as a shrinking back
Down amongst teacups and warm palms, amongst all these familiar things
I could hold tight and wait for gravity to return
Heat grows more tropical and makes me restless
Just one more cigarette before
Caught between the rush of tide, blood bright;
It floods out every other word or fraud
Consumes my elixir, my poison
Burnt blood but blowing through as transparent as a lantern
I take the smallest gestures to draw blood
But I'm safe for this half hour