Embarrassed to live, dear God, help us out! I’m running
pain, crooked with anguish, as to see her face. Was it ever love, as filled
with hatred, as two to roll that death? I’ve diced out, flicking for a lucky
seven, and slamming liquor. The days are sorrow, this facial twitch, this smile
that didn’t make it. I pine the midnights, while fully enthralled, coughing and
sipping water; where hell is gravy, this subtle resistance, while life is
morphing. I’ve loved our rain, this series of life songs—this shredded heart;
to vacuum death, as rotten as dead cows, to revive a dying man. I saw a wink,
this skyrocket dream, this two month tryst. Oh would it live, this deep amore,
for one so sullen; as to feature grief, this darkside pain, this feeling of
depression; to keep us this light, as loving through angst, this wretched
heartsore, this flint of hearts; as breaking shadows, to die in private, to
fall asleep a downfall; while waking alive, this broken seashell, this farewell
love. May I broach the topic, this living breath, this kef of death—while
stinking rain, this tree of poison, such weeping ash! I fall and fret, filled
with nightcap dreams, this flavor I couldn’t fever; and pain heard, of a near
escape, to crank up the volume. I’m passing out, engaged in tears, feigning for
that favor. Oh the hatred, for something so cold, as to scar a man for life;
and see for nothing, “For he deserved it, and that’s for loving me.” We atone
for dreams, this inner taint, the faint of mankind; and grind my life, this
scented trance, plagued with visions and woes. It’s the majesty of rain—oh this
sweet poison, as cursed to live; this minx of life, as held this freehold, to
atone for the draperies; and oh the cradles, to see her eyes, as glossy as
moonbeams.
