my dear
lying cold
lucifer shot a bullet in your head
in your skull it laid embed
la petite mort—
the little death,
or so it's called
you are as cold as marble
but wait, are you shivering from the cold
or are you trembling with shame
mona lisa,
pleased to please ya
I want to die I want to die
how I'd love to take apart
the shattered fragments of your skull
to rearrange the pieces
—as a kid I loved puzzles—
and maybe piece you together purer
oh look, darling
the sun is rising
for the millionth time, the little death
but you're still breathing
oh darling
morning brings a new terror
perhaps in the morning you'll die again