30 December 2012
He was a sleeping sickness
In my soul,
A gentle slow rot
In my bones,
Insidious poison,
Venomous love,
Spreading, infecting,
Amputation was
Necessary to save me;
You ripped out
The infection
Before I could succumb.
He was a knife wound
In the stomach,
A slit-wrist
Bleeding out,
Slow and painful,
So please, I beg you
Ease my passing
With the words only
You know how to speak,
Pull out the stitches
Turn of the life support,
Let me go;
I don't need your placebo.
Placebo • Opuss № I