My advice for a person who’s just fallen out of a skyscraper window is, Flap your arms…faster.

After a long day of screaming at the trees, I smell like a skyscraper. Would you care to ride on my elevator shaft?

…the/ supreme end-result of/ early Gothic phallic forms/ is the skyscraper & the/ oil drill & powered/ compressor & pistons of/ great engines…

My skyscraper of a heart met an earthquake of a woman. Why can’t I meet a simple window washer? My love is a hundred stories tall—and I wrote every single one of those stories.

Do you have to make me feel like there’s nothing left of me? You can take everything I have, you can break everything I am, like I am made of glass, like I am made...

As the smoke clears,I awaken,And untangle you from me.Would it make you feel betterTo watch me, while I bleed?All my windows still are broken,But I’m standing on my feet.

Skies are crying,I am watching,Catching teardrops in my hands.Only silence, as it’s ending,Like we never had a chance.Do you have to make me feelLike there’s nothing left of me?

I kiss like a skyscraper meets the sky, only with less scraping and more vertigo.