"Both things we can't get enough of"

That, with fluctuating love and hate
who flounders every day when he lurches to put it off,
because; but none that remembers will, or even can
relinquish that mesmerising grey pattern dancing in still air
to disdain the most familiar
smell of heat
and burning pain

a mirage of the one tune
that makes you shatter
that, makes you shine

joy, will
disappear
without
wistful neglect