My hellos echo inside this black hole,
My heart’s a no call no show, down-in-the-dumps hobo;
Haunted by the ghost of your sucrose coated love.
I’ve licked my fingers down to the bone trying to
Feel it just once on my tongue again.

My brain’s a necrophage, feeding on your face
Until I can’t recognize the taste- the shape,  
You’re just a skull in a grave, and I crave
To decompose alongside you in the bed you made.

My frame has been shoved down the **** drain
And the incessant drip drops sound just like your name.

I’m a repulsive cultist drowning my emotions in solvents,
Trying to deal with the loss of the most revolting poet.

-SLuR