emancipated emotions dictate devastating
   devotion under a moon that shelters
   shadows over your heart,
air tastes of destruction and the words
   wave with corruption;
     where am I,
         now?
   feast your eyes on the fleeting
   ferocity and tell me of the development of
   deployed hostility.
   I am free, I am weak,
   I am dull.
  there are weeks of thickly theatrical,
   favourably fashionable, serendipitous sempiternal;
   all devastatingly deconstructed dreams.
   you were good for me,
   were you not?

- Charlotte Griffiths