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i make frequent visits, to the place where you are too bad it's not real, but you were all too... and how close i come, is no consolation because in sleep, you were always so much more to me i drift away, to the sound of you breathing as your scent it swells past my face your body, painfully close and the heat it is seething so hot it's like ice it's like needles and even though it burns me i'll crawl closer and closer till scars my hands and stings the inside of my chest and all that is keeping me grounded is the appendage between pushing me down from the place of my dreams and this confabulation is stripping me down till all that i speak of and all that i sleep is the reference point stuck in between i don't believe From Letras Mania