Love
has left
as wrench
in the death,

There's alloy,
and sheets
of the metal,
a flock
of beginnings

I count sheep
as my thoughts
are twisted
like blistered
of no deep
of a river
eyes shall weep.

Take this last ****
of inflamed,
of some ******'s
believing
a twitch that woke
My name...
and time,
carries shame
and....

In the yard,
there's no garden,
with spades
as the soil hardens,
the world's as sick
as my poison
and I hate this.