What will happen to me if I stop thinking of you? The fear is crisp and the metaphorical cliches of my fragmented thoughts imputed to your actions towards me have grown quite a lot with the passing of time.
"Release me from your clasps that I may go sober", my imagery mused when in fact what you did was simply exist. I was the ivy that clung to your torso and the poison I was suppose to have was the same poison that I got drunk in.
You have released me from your clasps. And I'm beginning to wonder why I can't. Indeed the fear is crisp and what I can only do is meditate while I munch it.
v: The Mean Reds