life was never as good as the things we sang about.
but i will kiss your cuts
and lick your wounds
until the infection is drawn out.

the hallway smells like cat piss
and the children are screaming at the house.
holy mother, vomiting,
holy little lamb.
tell me something other than...
holy holy shit.
i've not recognized anything out of your mouth.

everything is the color of rust.
or milk gone bad.
shades and hues of the taste of blood.
wrap myself up in your sheets
they look like ground beef.

break it up
pack it up
smoke up.
sleep.

rinse and repeat.