Everything is perfect here . .

But I couldn’t create here . .

Somewhere over there . .

That is where I had to be . .

In the middle of chaos . .

I could write your fucking noose . .

So tight around your neck . .

Fit snug, your own death making you feel so safe . .

So sad you believe in fate . .

You don’t just die . .

You create this death . .

Your  final masterpiece . .


Bench Side Throne

Do you think of me?

While she is wrapped inside your intoxicating embrace.

Does she know?

Know that I was the only one, you ever really loved.

It’s a cut so deep.

You gave her the wedding, promised to me.

Wound Festering, rapidly.

She sits in my place, beside your bench side throne.

I gave you me.

In return you left , claimed I had betrayed thee.

How can you?

Tracing her perfectly smooth, warm flesh.

She is marked yours.

Your fingers never to caress me again.