Swansong

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

Hurt me love me hurt me love me
my darling my only love my
prancing passion is spent and discarded
like an orange skin the greasy chip paper
of loathing and betrayal rolling spastically
spasmodically and vacuous maybe
in the liquid shit flooded gutter
of your bilious bestial vile black heart.

You are menstrual discharge
you are an infinite open sewer
of momentous monstrous hatred
of twisted words and nothingness
of utter selfishness and of course
lies lies nothing but frigging lies.

Love me hurt me love me some more
you hankering harridan you crapulous whore
omnipotent sweetheart my lush love candy
kiss me better sometime maybe?

My diseased brain screams impotently
for its hollow meaningless fix of sleep
of numbness of joy and a staid somnolence
bloody somnolence bloody Sunday.

The sharp thorn of perhaps impales
my frenetic inescapably potent lust
an utter and complete expectation of
the dry and deadly rustle
the vicious insectile snickering
of furious wasps the black widow of death
comes creeping creeping
and its hunger can never be satiated.

Hurt me love me in the darkest dankest
soulless antechamber of a sultry Hell
my irreversibly wounded mind become
a rubbish strewn alleyway
a cockroach infested mattress
a corpulent blood-sucking bedbug
floundering helplessly in the
stinking charnel house we once shared.

Aghast your swollen mightiness
your incandescent many-coloured splendour
cools and grows dull because
you are dying dying dying
my incomparably awful vampire love
and you're too stupid to bloody well know it.

Behind my twitching eyes shines
a sunbeam a glimmer of impossible hope
a light at the end of a long dark tunnel
overrun with starving mutant rats
a single twinkling star in an inky sky
Wormwood deadens my lycanthropy
a phoenix a rose a twisted chimera
the kraken lunges the siren sings
and all rise in horrific unison
from the furious throbbing red ocean.

Hurt me love me hurt me my lovely
stick me like a pig you wicked bitch
slit my useless throat and poke out my
eyes suck out my brains and then perchance
my suffering will be over.

Demented and anaesthetised and glad
I laugh hysterically at the irony of it all.

And as I might have known
my special one my honey
my currant fucking bun
your limp decidedly unlovely
love lies bleeding.