Give me a fix. The severity of my reaction is deciding actions without me being present. Give me a cure. To replenish the heart ships that are approaching, you can feel them in the raise of sun that slice across my skin in the afternoon, exposing me to the reality of it's heat. Give me a fix. Thirsting for a drink of you, consumed by your charm, a pray I will have to repeat a billion times to feel an inch of security. Blessed me, for I have sinned and I'm sinning every day. Let's rejoice, share in the hard times, reflect on the emotions that lay across our hearts and beat rapidly on our minds, forever a thought, forever a feeling. Give me a hand. For I am falling off the edge accidentally on purpose and it's inspiring and sad, time is a killer thing - an accessory for murder and it just happens to fit right in my clutch. Loving into overtime, give me hope in my despair and try not to belittle the blooming pride that has lightly coated my desire, my passion. Give me a fix. A beautiful object to wither between my fingers, to curse and praise upon to throw in anger and worship in times of happiness. A confusion of epic proportions, the downfall of plenty and rise of hearts like a poker hand bleeding for the win. Give me a fix. A fix to cure all fixes.
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