Its Not Paranoia If Theyre Shooting Live Bullets

i’m dressed for the kill now.
i’m dressed for our funeral.
a dress down affair. an accident addressed to me from you…
a self-inflicted starving state.
succinctly salacious sanctimony…
we knew we’d be the death of us (but no amount of preparation could cushion the blow)…
with every word, with every thought, we betray us…
we betray us (and I can’t forget it).