What Empty Sockets In A Skull Can See

The moon is bruised tonight, and I
Shall go beneath its wounded glow
To eat myself.


I met a girl with no bones.
I gave her mine, one by one,
Till all I had left was a knuckle.
I got them back all broken when
Better bones came clattering along.


Was time,
Or distance,
Or nicer bones
The executioner?


There is nothing more undignified
Than the silhouette of a man
Who has his bones unceremoniously
Handed back to him with no warning
Or even a receipt.


The man of your dreams is a nightmare,
With shiny, shiny diamond bones that say
"Come with me and be a Senator's wife!
I will change America!"
My bones (that own no land and shake
Hands with no politicians) only ever said
That I would sacrifice myself
On your life's altar.


Your pretty face is going to hell,
Where you will see, you spineless devil,
All the things that I have done
Since you gave me back my broken bones.


In my dreams, I burn every
House, cottage and apartment
Of which you ever fancied yourself
The skeletal princess.


You took with you any evidence
I once lived well and loved without a fear.
You abandoned wreckage.
There are penalties for that,
When your breathless corpse blisters
In the air of the living,
And you have to defend your falsity.


You swallowed my ring.
Now get on your knees
And sift through your shit
For the sheen of silver.


I hereby draw a border in my life
That you will never be allowed to cross.
If you do, my muse will cut your throat.
Do not dare think of me.
You have no right to any memories
Or sensations from the past in which
Your boneless body's shadow overlapped mine.


When we met,
I did not know who you were.
I did not know who you were.
I do not know who you are.

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