Without hope, broken dreams, it ain’t worth livin’, life ripped at the seams.
My paper bag sits with a bottle of cheap wine, no one cares Lord, but I am still Thine.
I wait in the darkness, lying like the Maja
after our exchange of insults and barbed-wire words.
Only your shoulders face me
and I am surrounded by this suffocating silence.
My voice whispers to you in this night
and I don’t understand this silence pressing against me.
I rest alone, only confused.
I feel the warmth of your skin
near mine, this night.
Still, only the rays of the ascending moon
O, Sweet ray of moonlight!
You know that no single word means anything at this moment.
Leave our robes draped on the tile. They have no use, after all.
A false caress hisses over each pore promising lies of affection.
Hand against skin grabs its fill – engulfs, possesses, more.
My eyes wide beg for your light as it bathes me in your fusion
and I remain suspended, broken, less.
Yet emotion is expected,
and so feigned,
in this numb emptiness of every moment in his indifference.