Judges of clean sheets, do you know bedbugs?
Of the consuming fire and genitals, do you know slime and shit?
Little bits of dried blood made of one thousand marks
Do you know of all the webbing in my bed, the humiliating recoil?.
I have slept in silk and in red and in black.
I have slept on sand and, on cold night, on the grass.
Angel of hope do you know of my despair?
Inside the night I was defiled
When I was left like an old dog, a quiet skeleton
When I was left in this hole which I have turned into my grave
When I broke only because I was not brave
When I became Part of the leftovers. Part of the kill.
When I became the devil down that festering hole.
When my bitterness festered and grew
And only myself to blame.
And only me you blame.