I'm a cut open wrist,
raw and gaping,
strings of fibrinogen
plummeting onto
your black trouser leg,
blending with your
formal indifference.
I bleed my despair
onto your starched
white shirt--
I'm terribly sorry!
It was so pure and
I went and stained it,
so like me...You
were always a professional.
I'm becoming weaker,
losing too much blood,
gasping for air as
my throat constricts.
I grope, claw, rip
your clothes off
in tattered shreds
as I fall and you
step back, glance around--
Did anyone see?
You stumble but remain
on your feet, soldier,
as my head hits
porcelain tile with
a soul-satisfying
gratuitous thud.
My world becomes
as black as smooth jazz
that's been stifled in
a velvet sax case,
never to be played
out loud again...
I'm gone.
When you awaken,
stretching upon your
haunches, blinking
back the golden
sunshine, I'll be...
just one more bad dream.
Try to forget me.
I'm replaceable...
just add water.
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