in the bedroom we flown
i gently shoot you on your side
i glance at ricochet’s light
i put a straw in your hole
and drink the flood of your life
does it hurt you or not?
did some years of cries
turned the bodies cool dry?
how could we, if merged,
ever collide?
at first sight I tasted
a dim tingling flash,
a second sip though,
showed my atrocious self-crime:
i created an addiction
and now it’s not mine
i choked on its questions
we mistook everything for a
fragile bliss
and all was hopefully vane
but even considering this
some things still were true pain
and I am not well
in fact I’ll rather die
than seeing myself ringing the doorbells
of your oozing lifesick minds
and i am lifesick too
i am depressed
i boil from outside to nowhere
i crave for some obvious words
yet i recently prefer the welfare
of the divine domain
as a collective we sunk
in the bedroom we flown
i swallowed enough
i digested myself
in the fiction i crafted
i digested myself
why am i surprised?
it’s still my bedroom
i’m still the same
