Longing to feel, the broken glass, in the pit of my stomach,
The twists and turns, seams of red, are but reminders,
A better day? Perhaps not, A better dead? Perhaps yes,
Unbeknown to me are the pleasures, that a Darkness holds,
Why Ive been made to wait, brings timeless uncertainty.
The jaggedest edges make the cleanest, most painful cuts,
Seems as though words did this only yesterday, a lie?
Eyes rolling back into a mass of dementia, Love you say?
Eroticism of memories, Desire to blend away, Slipping,
What never done, comes into play, but of what never said?
Disfurged desires, organic disfunction, A unique similarity,
What long ago ceased, has been left deep, scarring in me.