Put your mouth
next to mine,
biting at your teeth
and staring
into my eyes.
Deep inside,
but when I move aside,
I see you’re
not even tracking.
You’re in attack mode.
Looking for a victim.
Trying to download
your pain and bitterness on me,
and I’ve got the scars, now,
to prove you’re indifferent to it,
you’re stuck in the black out.
Unconscious,
as if you were ever
conscious.
So many excuses,
for abuses,
but you loved to grind it out.
Smashed up and bloody,
but you’d call me
in the small hours,
looking for victimhood,
like I was your priest
in a dope confession.
Solving
your problems
with your teeth,
was what made you special.
Walking,
blind and hungry
to the feast,
is what made you
so exotic,
and disturbing,
and neurotic.
You emaciated
all your relationships,
but I’m still here with you.
Biting you back,
because we
are the same dilemma.
-HG
