there are manacles of lead on my wrists,
poison bleeding into blackened veins
capillaries thinning from overuse
and over-abuse of injectable bliss
that pumps incessantly
into my dying heart
(it contracts so painfully now)

scale my fortress; a cesspool of lies,
of drunken kisses and hasty goodbyes
find me behind
closed bathroom doors and
abandoned alleyways
before my pulse ebbs away
and is swallowed
by the endless night