Love, the toothpicks that built the architecture to my suicide
***, the physical affliction my body hungers
Hate, what swells inside and comes alive when I'm drowning in lies
Time, I wish to slit that *****'s wrists and stop the fleeting chase of experience
Space, where everything goes numb
Life, impatiently awaits death
Death, the only thing that makes sense

It’s clearly a drink
To make you think of nothing
But the kitchen sink

She asked me
would you like a sample?

I didn’t
I told her
no

thanks.

As I walked
away she asked
why not?

I told her
I don’t
want to smell like
date
****

she laughed
and sprayed me
in
the
******* face.

I’ll smell
like an *******
for the rest of the day

But she will still
work at a *******
perfume
counter