ferocious.

cruel
cruel of you.
when I cant do anything els.
it's cruel of you,
to walk into the room
where I write
where I use to write
where I use to rip bits
of vascular tissue
and glue it to my pen
then let it run and fuse
along the paper.
all for you
and the almost unreal love
you put forth
it's cruel of you
with your might
beast like
abundantly overshadowing
body
to come into a room
where I softly slumber
and half heartedly dream.
its brutal, ferocious of you
to munch and drench
in food and sleep
and then slither in utter comfort
when I can hardly
wake to breath.