Collect all the dirt in your words,
and throw it over me,
as you shut yourself inside your protection cell,
and depart from here.
How beautiful it is,
to become a worm,
with wings made of moonlight,
Be able to fly only in your sleep,
and fall deep below at dawn.
How ugly it is,
in the place of light,
in the region of truth,
sometimeswhere all your scars are visible,
in the limelight of your calcium eyes.
And I crack, when you mold me into a shape,
refine me to your tastes,
so you could stab me with your nails,
and devour every bit of affection.
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