I Live in a Whores Heart Fucking Myself to Sleep

as the sweat from your forehead
drips
and syringes are buried
along with
that thing
that horrible fucking thing
i used to call my soul
and after you've plugged
every hole
this fucking thing
i just cannot bear no more
will take me
and my life away
and even on the
day you leave
i will regret
the long days by
the river
where i found a deep peace
that swells in my heart
and rips this
weaving bedroom door
and cuts through the mattress
made of my own lungs
breathing guns
made from the clay
heart
that once beat in this chest

now i get dressed
and walk out the door