SIXTEEN THOUGHTS inside my head:
Surely I would be better dead
Than buried here with all this pain,
Pouring down like acid rain
That melts the life through my skin
But makes me wait for the end within.
My heart bleeds, no longer open
To the gods whom I know are broken.
So push me quickly in the ground
And give to me the love you’ve found
(Which is to you the same old hate
But looks much better on the plate)
From your dear sweet goddess-whore,
Who knows all but feels no more
Than the dead within the grave
Who, like I, have none to save.