Salty lines of
good-byes whimper
through the grim tunnel
of his ears. As I puddle
lobes forcing him to feel
the wounds of my shallow cries.

Like the irony
of pain and pleasure,
I can’t understand the
{good}before the {bye}.
a shipwreck undiscovered. in
the swell of his turbulent waters.

While my green
and blues turn to black
and whites. Survival of a
heart.beat. aching through padded
walls, playing hide-and-seek with a
strait-jacket instead of a rain-coat.

As he fucked the hurt to
the tip of my nerves- the slaughter
of sensory illusion. so I crawled beneath
the skin of ghosts, hoping to see clear. will
death bring the tender touch of heaven. or bloody
edges. thread with his hands. to burn in this living hell.

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