My love
isn't truly my love.
He sends
regards from Hell
as he walks
with a limp
of deadly posture.
How he returned,
I'll never know.

It is
like summer snow.
Seven inches
he was buried
and he drove
me insanely crazy.
Tortured phobic anxiety,
it is his call.

He mumbles
with a rotting tongue.
Corpse solitude
his grave burns
with demonic chants
and edible brains.
I'm not Aphrodite,
and he needs an alibi.

Insomnia terror
return to Hades.
Alkalis heel
twisted flesh bone
snap in slumber
nightmares of war
haunt his dreams.
Return to sleep
in the valley of dolls.

Living dead
he has worms.
In eyes
and his ears
they crawl soil
a ****** home.
Earthly creatures survive
on his stench.

He kisses
me with his rotted tongue.
Vessel of
a mouth of
pork and flies
Lord of oinks and buzzing.
Go away, I pray,
He disgusts life.