there's a ticking in my back

and it tells me when to bend

i heard it breathe and relax

as you pulled on every string

now it's curved to the side

where you wanted it to be

and i'm trying to re-mold

what you left so unnaturally

and it's so lovely to remain

in a mattress made of sand

any hourglass would tell you

everything it can

and i would trace your figure

with the fingers that i crossed

and i'd bottle every word

that translations might've lost

i still keep a heavy head

that tries to keep up with my heart

and the ticking in my back

i can't stop it once it starts

and in the crescents of your eyes

i wonder what still swims with you

but if you're asking me

i'd love to swim with you

but my minds a constant wind storm

a scratched up old film roll

sun leaks and black spots paint me blue

already unraveled whole

writing bye bye. :(