In my forgetfulness I sing
songs full of sadness
oblivious of the source
of the sound of the song:

Put on a mask
to hide your decadence,
contort your sadness
into a smile.

Find a suitable drug
dissolve your fears
and your hopes,
drink them till you piss them out.

For these are the things I do
when I look around me and at
all the passions that flow through men
but have deserted me.

Hard it is to be loveless
no blood now in my veins,
I sit here dissecting myself
to find and fill the holes.

The heart inside me wrenched
by an imploring invisible hand
leaves me bleeding
my memories to death.

One day I will cut my head
to find inside a carcass of longings,
once killed by the cruel laziness
tasting like sugar, smelling like love.