The Month

I'll see out the month.

Punch-drunk, moonlight,

smoke pouring out from that distended fucking void

you call a mouth.

I can't believe that you ended up in this place.

I'm going to tear you a new one,

with vim.

Light is dancing off your skin,

and you can't possibly keep all of that in,

and you'll see out the month.

I'll do my best.

You've got to understand that I'm not used to all this,

that this is a test that my body can't defeat,

and my heart and my head are both a mess.

She's tearing you asunder,

and she won't read or heed or hear.

So much hate for the ones we love.

But we do both matter.

Dark-chocolate words,

that's all you are.

Golden-glow essence

and the black tar of the night.

I'll see out the month.