Haoma Suture

In my sickbed in the dark,
I quietly nurse my broken heart
I can hear you roam the room upstairs,
the meek creaking in the ceiling
growing weaker
You can circumvent me all you want
but I'm still lying here;
I still exist

In the delirium of another's sheets,
I can quietly cultivate my conceit
I can feel your reticence,
palpable in your longer hesitance
as I grow stronger
There's another on my contagion vector
but I'm still lying here
We still persist

©2001