the fact of my disease are the claw marks on my hands,
shaking away from me, afraid to make another hit.
i think of the nights we spent drinking the blood from each others lips.
god, were it not a divine kiss?
the saints smiled at this sacrifice, their martyrdom fully recognized.
the waves are crashing in on me and the smoke is turning blue,
or is that just you?
suffocating under the pressure of oil under my skin.
you speak words i can’t calculate and cry noiselessly
when the floods come. une deluge rouge.
weren’t you asking for it?
"blind eyed boy, show me a miracle.
take the blood from your veins and let me see that you’re still living.”
but what came was not blood, nor was it lovely.
chemical composition, robotic rust.
"you look so beautiful in the dark,
when the only thing i see is the sound of your heavy breathing.”
i see you’ve fallen asleep.
allouise, allouise.