when I'm lost
I cry blood
through the pores of my soul.

When I do not know what to think
what to do
about me
or you...

that's when I become who I am, or who I'm not... I'm not sure any longer what's the true reality, if I don't know what is the truth.

and I make stuff up
enough to fill my fears,
I die slowly
when I need to be sure.

and i need to be sure...
even if it's only to be sitting there
with my sight unfocused
with the pain within my hands
and not within my head
my soul,
my sacred dwelling places
where I like to be
about you.


~~~~
I only ask
for a bit of you
to keep me certain
of the life I'm living...
'cause I'm alive
when I'm with you.