i want you back
to **** me again

perhaps
this depression is better-
at least i know what it is
at least i know what i feel

like dry acid down my throat
like gold mines down my gut
like a fly dead on my skin

the certainty when i enhaled
a mouthful of anthrax-enigma
and swallowed it after
screaming full

full of content
should i die tonight
at least
i knew the last feeling i had

perhaps
this depression is better
by a hundred-fold of rotten rose petals
by an extra cup of bane
by a last careful blink

perhaps
it is
perhaps
it is

than this feeling
i will never fathom what
how, why- why me
again- how- again, again

perhaps, it is not really what
that matters
perhaps, it is knowing what
that leave dents

certainty, i want you back
to **** me again
id rather die with your bare hands
than these of mine

smother me
to death
to death
tonight