Exhaust

The things we break in our hands
we do after we part
so you won't see the mess we make
of ourselves
so you won't clean it up for us so quickly
and make us laugh.

I'll only love you in the night
when you're not yourself
but you become so self-conscious
and I dissapear with you
lost
finally holding no conversation.

An old meaningless city street
is all that runs through my heart
pushing exhaustion to its place
Later
My most dear and meaningful thoughts
are my most useless
and they hover in that street
like exhaust.