You scratch, and you scorch, my favourite girl, all aflame, all asunder, gathered in my rosey gaze. No good, according to those I didn’t ask, no problem, if I treat you right. Your rage always rains, but your apologetic, adoring kiss is an umbrella.

Grey clouds grow, grasping every part of the sky, but the sun still smiles, because the storm cannot last forever, and one day, she will emerge from the endless shadows, to see me again.

Fenced in, sore shoulders and the headache from hell. Baited like a bear at the circus, jolted and twisted, awoken long before the day was truly born. She must perform. She must perform. She must perform. My throat is wrecked, a home for razors. Broken body, but on I go, under the spotlight, obligated and…

The grass will be fresh in the morning, shining in the shy sun, dressed in dew and drops of rain, but that sight is not for now, as the night still needs our attention. You pretend to sleep against my chest, holding tighter every now and again as rain hammers the windows, and your favourite…

Swept up in spiteful cyclones as Summer sends her best regards, the morning brings malicious madness, and not a hint of mercy. Winter winds have been waiting for my weakness, watching me emerge from my cave like a confused cub, gleeful grins and giggles as I stumble towards the sun, reborn after my rest, but…