It climbed out from under the bed,
Into my sleeping mouth,
And down my throat.

It stretched its arms into my own;
Its legs reaching down to my feet.
It caused me to stir.
It blinked my eyes.

It whispered to no one.

I tried to **** it.
Red droplets.
Pink pills.
Bitter drinks.
Open legs.

Open ends.

And with this slow death,
Came a slow decay.
And a greasy rot corrupting my insides.

This dead weight;
This dead thing;
I never named it.

I never called it anything.

I just carried her around.
Let her sit within me.

Mourned.

I can't even remember what I was mourning.