There’s disillusion on my breath tonight. That’s probably how I pulled you in. I know the slaying’s inevitable. But I never know where to begin.
The deep water swallowed us and we talked until we got the bends about love in the modern world with the awkwardness of passing friends. Eventually I shrugged it off. Maybe that’s how I feel. But you don’t seem offended by the fact that I have kept you here as a bait for something real.
They’ve discovered the volume knob. I bet the neighbours are seeing red. But my friend, she’s reading Kerouac, so there’s no way we’ll be going to bed. The effects are spreading fast. I hardly care when you leave. Once I find a net to use. Better shoes. Nerves of steel, new ways to feel. It’s soon revealed you’re a bait for something real.