Nights are usually beautiful.
Last night was not.
I have run out of space on my left arm.
There is always more space on my thighs.
I live in hell.
My hell is cold.
I press my face against the cement and moan.
There is never an angel there when you need him.
I cannot cry anymore.
I run in the night, knowing I am lost.
I bite my lips and taste the blood.
It is all a lie.
I run in the night, going round in circles.
A chained ghost.
I need you.
I am in hell.
Where are you?
Please help me.
Come in my sleep and hold my hand.
Kiss my fevered arms.
Tell me you know I am the one who calls for you.
Tell me you know I am here.
If I could only feel you for a moment
That would have been enough.