My mind freezes
your face invades
your handwriting
twists my stomach
into tightened knots
that cannot be
separated, and it's
killing me, I'm so
very tied to you;
it's making me
sick, making me
tired, and I just
can't fight you off
anymore; you're
some sort of lethal
pathogen, slowly
eating me up from
within, multiplying,
killing me piece by
piece, and I have
no immunity to you,
no way to fight this
overwhelming force;
there's a strand of
your hair, lying
before me, and I
hate it, want to
burn it, as if it
would let me be
rid of you and
your perfect face.

Just be done with
it, kill me, just...

And there is no
cure, none at all,
I'm lost to you
and your will, just
you. you are
beauty, and this
is truth, and I am
caged by this
entirely pathetic
love. So much
for freedom, it's
too bohemian
for this evil, dark
consuming feeling.

Dying, dying,
completely lost to
death, to darkness,
to pain, to the black
paint that looks so
beautiful on your
hands but only
makes me uglier...

Dead. Finally free
from this torment,
the virus has taken
me, buried me, and
now you've got
nowhere to turn; I
guess that's the
price you pay for
being a disease, for
desecrating me.