Forgive me, love, for I have done…
—You cannot hide from me…
save your last breath to the antlers
just before the wolves eat them all.
these streets lead me nowhere
sunlight has skinned me
its warmth cannot keep me alive anymore.
and regardless of this fear
I still have faith in you.
Angel, can you take me home?
They say you can lose the battle, but you will always win the war. Not like you have an option, though. Half of your body lies on cotton and grief and honey; oh, sweet honey that bubbles in the holes of your skin like a volcano that silently revolts with no shame and shuts your mouth with boastfulness… Praise the queen! May this crown of thorns be her gravestone and last remorse! The other half floats over all of this gallimaufry, aseptic, virgin, looking with disdain at the hell that awaits beneath you. You can't lose the war? what war? the one that depravedly ravishes your insides, filling you with rage and an intangible yet excruciating pain? You can make up it or you can make out with it, let the misery fuck that cute little face of yours and color it mauve and black.
Your voice caresses me like a knife.
Come on out, come on out…
Won't you just come back and let me lay my head on your lap?
Won't you just smother me with the pillow until I fall asleep?
No more nightmares, no more ache, just tie the knot around my neck
and watch me writhe at your feet.
I avow mysel n.
Why won't you take me home?