A Softer Side

the longer
that
my fine-toothed
angry
accusation
seeking comb
will rake
across
my senses
whether or not
i'm alright
i'll believe in myself
just as long
as in my mind
i am
truly alone

i wish it still
that i had
anyone to sit with me, pretending
for me
that she wishes
all the more
for poetry
and company

i'm getting paid
on monday
the sixteenth
ignoring bills
i find it difficult
to come with strangers

still
it's awful tempting -
find the correct whore
to fall for
empower her
too soon

forget about
the dangers
as i can
expect her
never to recognize
what it has meant
to have become
the instrument
for such a poet
as myself
to murder
temporarily
his permanent lament

in the name
of Anguish's
sweet sickness
on a wish
to wish
a sickness
wish for two
this sickness
continuously
puncturing my mind

my heart
is now
enraged
again
so much
for nourishing
my softer side