Ignoring it as if it’s just a passing phase,
my soul kisses his as my lips run off screaming,
fighting off this fever as if it’s a disease.

Down into my sorrow’s forest, kamikaze
kisses drown between the mirror’s silver and rim,
ignoring it as if it’s just a passing phase.

My silence of wide-eyed pilots rising to say,
‘You know you want him,’ lay deep thoughts I’m off fighting—
fighting off this fever as if it’s a disease.

Our glances dance around coincidence’s maze,
denying my Self what this sighing heart’s wanting;
ignoring it as if it’s just a passing phase.

Against the same wall we knock, blocking off the way
past coded talk’s dark oases our tongues swim in,
fighting off this fever as if it’s a disease.

Under a peel of hetero skin ripen lies—
slices of bitter fruit princes cultivate when
ignoring it as if it’s just a passing phase,
fighting off this fever as if it’s a disease.