You’re finally dead to me
In a white, feathered gown
Of a vague, pale memory
Shut up, stop speaking
Your voice is drowning out
Your faint heart beating
Frailing and ail
Your soft kiss with a raspy tongue
Leaves the passion stale
The music pulsates
Whether Korn or phonograph
I’ll find your ghost in the hallways
I’ll find your love in life
- In my sickness and in my health
‘Til your poltergeist is dried ice
Your perfume is vomit
Let me choke up the remnants
Of my adam’s apple from my stomach
Your hair is frayed noose
And I can feel your silky throat
Grasped in my hands in the form of GreyGoose
Cluthing your locket
I find your honesty and trust
With a broken condom in my pocket
I think I broke the cycle
When suicide took your life flow
In your stormy eye’s tidal
At the seams of time I tug
If you don’t have any more love
I hope you crumble to the floor
So I can sweep you under the rug.