Godspeed, Secretaire
Penicillin
Disorder
Propane
I don’t want to fuck you
I want to hold you
To make you semantic
I don’t want to hold you
I want to fuck you
Last night I dreamt that I was going to a graveyard
I was going to rip you open
I never got there instead
I found you in a travelling circus
You were up on the trapeze
You were sad
You were an amazing actress
I married you in heaven