ideally, all i'd ever need is a state in which i find myself entwined in your heavy sheets.
i don't want anything more than what you could give me;
that'd be excess, and all i want is a suitable amount of hypothetical to render me confident that i'll have enough substance in my life to persist through another arduous week.

i felt so good tonight, but i'd never gotten such a burning image.
all i wanted to know was your existence,
and not even the drugs could drag your visage from my conscious.

although it's far too early for me to admit this, i miss you.