My youth grow old, ashamed.
Ashamed by my never-ending obsession.
Fingers in my mouth,
And dirt dress dancing around blue body.
A lovely *****…
Walking through the mud, pristine.

My illness cut me down.
Down on the floor I’m crawling.
Sins of mine around me,
So soft and warm and familiar.
Beautiful sickness…
Burning in a snow fever, willingly.

Promised me a quiet death.
Death by which I’ll be set free.
Taste of the blood so sweet,
You will **** from me.
Amazingly empty…
Left here so happily asleep, forever.