You are dreadful,
Darling

And the patriarch
jumped
over the womb

I don’t wanna be your friend anymore

Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Sane anymore.

It’s tough “love”
not
tough love

There is a fine line
between
selflessness and self-deprecation

(and I have crossed it)

The fire in my soul
has started to die.

It shrinks down
the trellis of my ribs
like sun-burned flower petals;

wanes itself
to but a simmer

until it is
blue in the flames

Fire needs oxygen
to burn

but

My lungs thin
into icicles

frost congeals
around my chapped
lips

veins freeze over

(and so does this inferno)

I have never been one
to eat my words,
no—

I regurgitate
and spit them
back into your eye.

Dancin' with the devil,

(always stepping on his toes)

Oh
horrendous
Delilah—

You’ve cut away
the most
poetic
parts of me.