The Sock Drawer - 31. (Everything)

(Everything)

Everything in my world

is in his eyes

Everything of my world

even the skies.

Whatever I am, he scries.

It is a wet haven

A crystal hub, polished

If anything was ever owned

by anyone, then it's my world

my waking reality, crowned

by bright blue swirls

that choke me in a waterfall

of my own making, everything

runs out of my eyes

I'm never waking up.

I'm never waking up.

I promise.

To him, my dream

My waking reality I deem

just his, only his,

and asleep

I am, in a mirror, for skies

and water and ice.

It is deep.

It is cold and smooth, polished

To you, I'm demolished

To him, I am whole

In his eyes

even the skies

are part of my soul.

Everything in my world

is in his eyes

Everything of my world

even the skies.

Whatever I am, he scries.

It is a black maze

A dark dungeon, gritty

If anything was ever loved

by anyone, then it's my soul

worshipped like the sun above

by smoking pits of glowing coal

that burn me through and scorch my heart

with darkest passion, everything

glows out of my eyes

I'm never waking up.

I'm never waking up.

I promise.

To him, my dream,

My body and soul I deem

just his, only his,

and asleep

I am, in a dungeon, for heat

and depth and passion

and need.

It is deep.

It is hot and rough, rugged

I'm thinking, well fuck it

To him, I am whole

In his eyes

even the skies

are part of my soul.

Everything in my world

is in his eyes

Everything of my world

even the skies.

Whatever I am, he scries,

the dream, my dream,

I'm never waking up,

I'm never waking up,

I'm never waking up,

out of his eyes.