Like a bird of prey he circles me,

cigarette stained fingers grasping at light, loose cotton

his breath, stained with whiskey
and red wine

dripping with blood as he devours me, soul first, a ripe heart for afters

the whistle of the wind through a cracked chimney ***

where they used to send children, where children died

(I envy them)

I collapse into his words and I know I must succumb to my (un) death

to the weight of twenty stones of fat logged arteries

to a man two joints of red meat away from a heart attack

who is forcing feeding me a glass of water laced with sedatives

I pray to a God who is dead to me
that I want to resurrect

I pray for Cyanine and Arsenic,
kept in a jar

under the bed where he
buries me