I stare at myself in the mirror
decomposing.
The taste of decay still lingers in my mouth
like a hangover
I reach in
and yank out another rotted tooth.
I toss it in the cup with all of her other little trophies.
I peel what’s left of a layer of skin
from my shoulder.
Remnants of what my bed took last night
as I tossed and turned and screamed for her
to come back to life
and make mine whole again.
I ache
I dare not crack my knuckles
for I may break loose another finger.
My friend says to get out
but I’m unready to set foot in the sun
not like this.
Not when I should be dead.
I feel like the milk in my fridge
passed my expiration date
but still here
because someone’s too busy
or lazy
to throw me away.