He weaseled his way into
Her side of the frame
So he could take part in the picture
He'd admired and it surely had to be contagious
She was a disjointed line not meant for his verse
Yet somehow she fit in the story he couldn't complete
He gives into what it asks
At least he's anchored
Somewhere in the chasm between what is
And what isn't
She invited him to eat but he showed greedy teeth
Biting off more than she would let him have
So she reduced him to letters
And the tone in which she read him
Forced his eyes to open
Then he looked down only to see shit, blood and cum
He flushed it down with a fat chunk of his hope
He dreams of the past
At least he wants something
It's a tedious separation between what is
And what isn't
Now she's disgusted by him
And he won't feel clean until she let's him know
That one day it could change
And that she might give him a second chance