even a madman could see
i'm about to fall from
my point of patience.

nobody owns the perspective,
to come to the realisation.
((would it be so bad to include me?))

we'll purge the rivers of incandescence.
i'll catch you from the bottom of the tree
cross the spaces where i fell over from the pain,
make amends, take the satin skirt from the hanger
strip it all of lace. you'd talk forever
about who you are & want to be.
honey, i'm not the container to your problems,
for i'll burst under my own means
before i ever take on yours.