admitted

one more before
the expiry there is
an uncountable
badness i jam my
hands into
pockets this world
is an ice cube beautiful
and cold no one
has ever told me
why perhaps only
because it doesn't i feel
affinity with sinking
lights a long time
ago i carried
knives i was sorry
for the both
of us the times i woke
up and couldn't
remember or the times
i did and it didn't
make sense to either
of us at
all.