She fell in love with
the curtain he hung up
around himself;
with the gloss of
woven power.
She became deeply
infatuated with
the slippery silk
hunger of the facade,
obsessing over the
little lustful
beads.

I cannot recall the bruise on my thumb
and the lazy scent of saliva on the carpet.

Working, under what circumstance?
Have you not the mind of a nocturne?
Are you bidding me to sleep
when you know I cannot?

God, I wonder if his fingers fumble
once in a while,
when I firmly hold my soliloquy
between the reed and my sorrowing lips.

It hurts,
down bottom,
I think,
But Saturday holds a repetitive rendition
of the same smiling faces
and the same brand of red pens.

I am not tired;
one has a maximum that
has not yet been conquered.

I told myself
To think before I acted
But I didn't
Now I wish it all away
I threw myself
On a ****** slab
I told myself
That you would be gentle
But now I'm bleeding
Like they were bleeding
And I can't seem to stitch up my wounds

I've ****** up
And I'm about to fall
I've ****** up
And now I'm falling
I've ****** up
And I've fallen
I've ****** up
And I can't get up
I've ****** up
Because I fell for you

I hope you wake up
Lonely
With gray dawn and
Spiders
In your eyes

I hope you can’t
Sleep
And shadows dance
In the corners of
Your room and
Follow you
With my
Face

I hope you’re cold and
The cobwebs that
Hang inside your
Dreams brush against
Your cheeks and
Creep into your ears
Whispering my name
Until you beg them
To stop

I hope you try to run
Faster
Blindly stumbling
As ropes of
Memory wrap around your
Legs and drag you
Back to where
They once tangled
With mine

And I hope you wake up
Lonely

With a heart full
Of stones

Red lips, rung red hair,
Colours of war conquering—
Red eyes of mine bleed.