I reckon your indecision,
Fata Morgana no more
Though I bear the mark of the incision,
My blue tears remain inshore
Thoughts are grains of sand on a beach
Emotions lay cold across the floor
Hearts pound and blood is lost in each
quicksand consumes the tenderness that was before
Subtly, we drown deep in these courts
Mind your tongue, because words are corps.
Suddenly your against the wall
Yet I hear no answer nor call