DTM

I buried you.

Six motherfucking feet

In the back of my memories.

You rot with my feelings

Of worthless inadequacy;

Tangled in the vines of your deceit-

You’re dead to me.

Like a marionette poppet-

You just keep dancing.

Your theatrical version

That molds your perversion.

Hopeful someone’s amused

By your false reliability.

You’re dead to me.

Your fingernails green with envy,

Thinking anyone could love me.

Separated by the chiseled concrete-

My brain stem dry and dead.

No longer living in the rotten cellar

That used to be our bed.

#mb