Deviendroid

Lies of and not of omission dot your head
plaits of straw leaking lies from technology,
wittling away wooden poles into totem
frightening me.
Elements of comedy pigment your face and speak
drones.
Lonely children fuck in the night.
Each time I try to leave nothing for you to take,
each time, leeches edge back towards my cervix
and cling, waiting.
Baise-moi was untrue, for me,
and I'm all that matters, here.
Empty black empty red the colours mix and mend
when all that's left is empty paint empty blood.
Jolted awake,
I stare at stippled ceilings listening to pipes hissing
whilst beside me you hum like a machine
churning.
[...]
They twist and turn faces away, folding neck skin,
pursing lips and crunching eyelids
to avoid
touching.