tres pathetique - poem, satire

[iteatsblood]

i was lying face-up
with your book of poetry covering my eyes
as if i could read it there in the dark
the Pathetique loud through the speakers
wriggling and dancing round me in the dark
my wrists lying face-up
ready for cutting
i felt quite alive, though
it was all quite contrived
my lying and your poetry
and the music-morose-writhing
and my wrists lying face-up in the dark