The heat of your flesh pressing hard into mine
salty sweat dripping down to my lips
No future no past, just us stuck in time
Your mouth presses hard searching for my tongue
Taking the breath from my lungs
A high rivaled by nothing of this world
I hear a chirp of a bird
Eyes flutter open
Nothing but a dream, a reminder of what was
Yet never will be, not even once more

To end it all, to end your life
for there's no point, beyond the strife.
Ended by bullet or blade or rope
for there is nothing to give you hope.

All that seems good, it's a pack of lies
well...except perhaps her gorgeous eyes,
her perfect laugh, her cute wee smile
and those things you forgot for a while

So don't you do it, don't end your life
just see the good, beyond your strife.

I gave birth to my mother yesterday.

There she is- running around,
laughing about- dead dolls in
hand, yellow hairbands and
blue tees.

Perhaps she was not mine to
give birth to- perhaps I was
hers.

I had painkillers for breakfast.
To-night, I dine on my mother's
soul.

I dined on whispers yester-night.
To-night, I write the stories.