Rooms

hey, I’m so exhausted, dear.

we’ve been worn thin by molly and fear.

in rooms, dimly lit and awash with tears,

these nerves have made it all too clear.

did you think I’d object to the way you’ve caved?

placebos tend to hollow a soul.

but if we protest without the infirmary,

we’ll be consumed by the relapse.

swallow gently,

another anodyne, another anodyne.

rolling slowly,

your fingers serpentine, fingers serpentine.

insufflating,

the paradise we bought, the paradise we sought.

draw us a new line,

we’ll reconnect the dots without a second thought.

did you think I’d object to the way you beg?

our vices tend to bury us all

with filthy weakness and wry codependence.

at least we tried to confine it.

in rooms of mirrors and rusty keys,

inhaling desiccated dreams.

but if we protest without the infirmary,

we’ll be consumed by the relapse.

hey, I’m so exhausted, dear.

we’re held together with coke and fear.

I haven’t slept in two days now.

I guess I’ll take the empty couch.