I sit beneath her rays
And I let her brush against my skin.
Do you love me now? I ask.
I don’t think she loves me,
And my bullshit hands and my
Cut up lips, I don’t think she loves my
Sinner’s throat, she doesn’t.
“Why not, why not?” I cry out.
Does she hear me, through the blankets
Of blue skies, I can’t tell and she’s not crying.
Head in knees, I’m speechless, and it’s not
Pity I want--
It’s damnation.
I never want to see the sun again.