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it is always the pain that returns
little twists of the knife
sinking into the edge of oblivion
harsh bright metallic
like the taste of lips screaming

he never remembers the good
scars crisscrossing the insides
sensuous snakes
etched across pale white
following the rivers of soft blue

does it never stop
this aching need
this driving hunger that makes sleep
an elusive dark phantom
too dangerous to indulge in

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