i'm wasting my young years
on a phony from Nordeast
and a lipstick stained cigarette

the night air feels contrived again
as i lay my wrists out in the open for him

do as you please
***** dog, you
take what you will
lashes on the throat

i don't care much for sympathy
empathy and the like
i don't care much for sensitivity

not when the moon's full and i'm ready to pounce

there's beauty in the ****
profound treachery in the wait