• Self hatred like autoimmune,
    Where is the end of God’s sick tune?
    Here I lie another night,
    A body filled full of fright,
    Alone in dear; alone in sight.
    But alone in ear, I am never,
    For you shall always stand ever;
    My sickly twin of rapture no end.
    Sickly little friend,
    Matched with you until wreckage,
    Snap of mental breakage.
    Tied forever as knots;
    Of abdominal scar and mental tar.
    If not a feather,
    Our social shame a tether.
    Locked together in dermis cast,
    Oh joy what a blast.
    Sickness like autoimmune,
    Mouth dry of dune,
    May misery drift us apart soon.