he bends
sinks deep into a
womb pose
like a kitten
claws tucked to chest
he believes himself agile
in this state
tense waiting
curled over my shoulder
his sliding hands
I breathe
he breathes
I cut him at the knees
but only in my mind
(cold blades wield bloody
at my white dainty flesh)
I stamp at the white butterflies
that desperate flee
his radioactive glow
let them die with me
I pin them to my white walls
I paint portraits of their corpses
all while he eats like
digs like a mad dog
foaming my mouth
gurgling and spitting
at my insides
When will my last
drink of water be?
25 September 2018
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