Gaslight Anthem

I would offer you tea

except it would burn the tongue you

needlessly lash my way when I'm

sure

sexy

slumping

slurping

on my sorrys

I wonder if you know that I

do not know

reality

anymore

itchy palms to touch the love you once blanketed upon me

only you've woven smallpox

into my small

box

useless to question the who's who of fuses

we are artificial light

and I am your bedroom's fixture:

Sconce

shaken

dim-witted

daft

you keep your light source

distant

I keep my

brightness

at my

back

moth

manned

flick of the switch

I keep on

coming

back