Can you be as urchin as your touch. As callous as prison shadow at my doorway. As cold glass as octopi. Can you be as trenchant as warm malt through my labyrinth. Can you be just as capillary. Just as skeletal empyrean as shrub winters are 4 a.m. bare. Can you be the sunrise entrance song of ocean floors. As unforgiving as crustaceous shelters. Can you be as shivering willows when I am as sovereign with your arachnid tactility across my ribcage. Can you be in the manner of meadow fingers. Can you be just as deadline for your torrent itches on my skin. You make it rain dust feathers that I have an hourglass to explain just what I say. Just give it sands till dawn is exact on my spine that you trace as with a stick of chalk. I am the wing of cardboard you read by braille in the lattice night of porch lanterns. You feel me treacherously pallid blaze. Can you sober my soul with it.