a constant hum,
a trembling
under the skin:
the things never said
the things i'd scream
if i only got mad enough

i am possessed
by my accusations;
they strut through the back of my mind
like they own the place

trust,
a slippery
bar of soap

i want an end
to interrogation,
i've cast myself a
vindictive detective

in bed
where your slumber is so
sweet, so soft
i do not fear
who you've seen, or
where you've been

worse than jealousy:
suspicion

02/16/2010

Posted on 02/17/2010
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