[a moment of relapse]
love is lost despite
fruitfull labour
& still i find it hard to
hate her
falling back down my
evil ways
well,
time is money &
crime does pay...

feel alone
& im achieving
feel no love
only breaking
nerves are racked
anticipating
lying down
body shaking...
several moon's &
summers waiting
not surprised
sun is fading
loss for words
imitating
with my mind
masturbating...


seven times remember her
then push it from your head
& every time you loose a second
amongst the four post's of your bed
for seven years ive traced each sin
made martyrs of them all
in a bed
high above the streets
or
in a bathroom stall
maybe we could make it happen
if sex was all it was
loosing track of conversation
loosing the feeling,
love.