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a nightmarish child lays infantile, housebound in a cradled isolation

touch marasmus mourns heartfelt embraces;

the security that heaves beneath staggered breathing 

claims the arms of reassurance

signet rings only symbolise the characteristics of separation.

memorising floorboard creaks in the wake of apathy-

vacant rooms resemble empty tombs,

the sole resident being she who is nobody's somebody

and who else could better demonstrate heartbreak than it's self-proclaimed prodigy?

you can knock at each door

but the resounding echo dies at your fist, because love doesn't live there anymore.

in love, you think of all that makes you unlovable

hideous misfortunes vining around a chorded transit;

how do we speak of what makes us ugly?

i'd settle even for semi-normality after years of unconsenting madness.

wound digits sneak behind backs

while the devout chokes on sacrilege...

selfishness becomes pardoned if in one's favour.

desperation loiters restlessly in fleshed odontiasis

scouring in search of cures tucked away in cupboard crevices,

resisting the semisweet elixir sunken in bordeaux bottling.

drinking in the agony, swallowing death in slow-release form

hoping it'll consume that which consumes you.