What can I do to prove to you that
You are everything to me,
Should I turn the crooked knife on myself,
Corkscrew backstabs so I understand the feeling?
Surrender to your gunpoint, aimed straight at my dreams,
Threatening them with distortion and pain and loss
What do I do so that the finger
Isn’t shaken between my eyes again,
Furrow my brows until there is no rift or recognition?
Hold my ground or back off humbly, show humility,
Will your tightened fist open again if I do?
It opens into an empty hole doesn’t it,
Swallowing the world that is you, to me,
Until you’re gone and I can’t see
Kicking and thrashing is no use when you’re blind
Nothing to be done
When the rift between our hands is too much