Suspended, fragile from the threads, every depth they can't fathom
Still dressed in cast-offs, I could be china
Sometimes I burn within air, but then they're always as far as a shrinking back
Down amongst teacups and warm palms, amongst all these familiar things
I could hold tight and wait for gravity to return
Heat grows more tropical and makes me restless
Just one more cigarette before
Caught between the rush of tide, blood bright
It floods out every other word or fraud
Consumes my elixir, my poison
Burnt blood but blowing through as transparent as a lantern
I take the smallest gestures to draw blood
But I'm safe for this half hour