As you **** yourself dry between the thighs of her loveless corpse,
Manoeuvring amongst half empty yoghurt pots
and
tomato sauce-encrusted knives and forks
strewn across your soggy floor,
You ****** with a feeling not quite as real as this before.
As it gazes at your soul,
You slowly graze upon the cold,
Restless,
breathless,
***** *****
And laugh at her naive adoration
For the plastic soul she thinks is yours.