There are times I cheat on the gun
and swiftly think to pull the trigger
past, present, future to blend in one
to seize the pain from growing deeper

don’t wanna listen don’t wanna talk
don’t wanna touch, see or taste
for only death to wave its cloak
above the life I’m off to waste

to blank your image in my mind
delete your body-smell that lingers
be purified sort of a kind
from your curious tongue and naughty fingers

only your words and what they meant
to drag along my ball and chain
“sorry love, love I don’t comprehend
but you can love me if you may”.