I’ve fucked myself with your inconsistency,
Cleansed myself with your dead-end soul.
Held myself next to inconsistency,
Wailed and moaned at the same strangers face.
I’ve fought the beast and slayed him willingly,
Stabbed the wounds with the softest touch.
Held myself out whole and tragically,
Longing for your fall from Grace.
Hated you with spite and jealousy,
Begged and pleaded with myself.
A heart so black decayed and casually,
protecting itself from love’s known face.
I wrote this a little full of red wine in Lorne whilst all slept.