He’s splashing in cyanide tonight,
elbow deep in death grease, peeling it off
long enough to shout his love at me.
My bed is empty like this,
I lay here, empty, like this,
sipping on his poisonous spit.
The clock hisses,
my eyes burn like his swollen skin,
sleeping beasts await me
and I sit here,
just empty, like this
while he bathes in acid
and cries out his love to me,
he stands long enough to dry a bullet
and point his shaky finger at me,
I take my time,
watching the roses he gave me
each petal smells toxic,
I can’t touch them they will crush.
The clock spits after midnight,
he washes off in rust
then rushes off to spread his love on me.
I am here, like this,
for his cyanide to save me.