Spinning round a windy ledge,
i kiss the cross around my neck,
these fever dreams replace the likes of you.

Grinning into space, alone and lost,
the dampened linens lie,
     as i wake up,
     covered in fake love.

In my den the china white,
embraced my blood and laced my night,
an amuse-bouche of courses left to come.

The past three years I can't recall,
coulda been fun, but was it worth it all,
i'm a coma patient lacking an excuse.

Truth,
is hard to come by,
You,
are a stranger in my,
Eyes,
collude disguise.