It's been a while since I've written anything, so I'm probably a little rusty.
This is probably awful, but I figured I'd post it anyways.

Please be harsh.

It's gangrene.
That's it.
My tongue wets my lips.
That MUST be why
Her jaw is so close to the ground
Because, I scoff,
It's certainly not because
Of the ripples of blood at my feet,
Lapping at the Oriental rug
A postcard from my wrists
"The weather is here, wish you were good!"
I watch her tears
Stomping into my puddle
And, as if they were disgusted,
Separate like water from oil
Scrubbing to clean themselves
Of the sin they rubbed elbows with

My head lolls back, and I laugh
One haunting, electrifying "Heh."
And just when eyes couldn't get any whiter
She's gone.
Sobbing, stumbling down the hall.
Screaming as to what god could have let this happen
To her darling baby boy.
"He was such a good child!"
Said the woman who's ears sealed themselves to my screams
Who's eyes hammered shut at broken bones
And who's mouth turned into a blank, unamused
'Is that it?' look
When I said
"I love you."

And at once, I see Sugarloaf Mountain.
Arms outstretched, waving me in like an air traffic controller
With greedy, pudgy little fingers.
The Vatican and all the stained glass windows
Nodding in agreement, licking their cracking lips.
"You will always have a home in me"
The clouds rumble, paralyzing the earth.
"Forget it."
Is spat as a response.
"You keep those cardboard lies, you ****er."

The ripples explode outward.
And I'm on eye level
With the fluid that's disappearance
Threatens my existence.
"Well hello there friend, how are you?"
But I never heard the answer.
I'd assume it was,
"I'm fine, and yourself?"
But shotgun shells couldn't spare me the honor
Of having one friend to mourn my death.
And neither could she.

"Um, hello?"

"I'd like to take you up on the offer of a home now please…"