pull the plug on me before i switch off the breaker. perturbed you glance as condolences roll off my lips and fine sherry slips past them. nothing was meant to be rosy and in the black of our feelings, the devil moves in me as you are meant to. the circuit in my halo is calling ******* and bast is laughing, coughing ugly colours from her lungs. puce must be our hamartia and when it dribbles down my face i make leaf piles out of the skin cells and ugly rivers, and you take breathing for granted.
but you don't give up that easily, and when i'm filling my bathtub with wine you're there to lap it up.