I’m located beneath the cellar door.
I’m sorry for the words that always seem so lost.
A fool to be discarded, I sleep with a mistress—A genuine damsel in distress.  
Her skin is a fired-yellow color, but always cold to the touch.
We argue… most nights she doesn’t let me rest.
What does she matter?

Her limp body is a pest. She’s better looking than me.
She’s something I once was, and could have been.
                 She acted then on laughter—

Understanding a pessimist in constant turmoil.
I burdened and condemned… My world is of rain now.
“You can’t change the pitter-patter.” (So she said)
Each day I get out of bed, my face flattens!
Blurring into unresolved disputes and mishaps.
               Just too late.

Too far to show anyone; my skin is dark blue.
No one can notice yet, but I’m with child…
A constant silhouette shadowing—
                     Breaking my back.

Did I, Did I know better? Maturity is a level of insanity.
The more you’ve experienced the closer you are to death.
“Don’t kid yourself Dear, pity won’t work for you where you are going.”
The rain shattered, my heart fell—
                    (So she said)


Let’s run from her my love!
I don’t want to see her face beside me any longer.
It’s me who is despised!
Can’t you see her—the dead thing following us?
Watching us sleep together.
           Again, shadowing my silhouette

When I’m old and tired, she’ll be young and bored.
Taunting me with who I should have loved.
                       Myself. (So she said)