Loathing Time

I'm pulling the clothing
off of her with my mind.
Everything's fine,
when everything's mine.

I'm beliving that evening
I offerd her the time,
but it's all a blur.
I could have given it all to her.

Yet... I know...

There is no
such discrepancy
created within me
to prove my fault.

She is her own lacerations,
I am only the salt
on elicited occasions.

Now...

I can't talk out loud.
I can't walk without,
this cloud...
raining down all this sadness on me...

It's time to be dramatic.
To
pretend to be the addict, that
she's always belived me to be.

Can anyone eles around me see?

I'm fucked.... I must be.
I'm rusting and dusty.
I feel alone even when I'm not.

It's all my fault...

I rot.

 

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