My heart plays games with me,

What a foul player she is

It has me high for days in a complete low state,

Deceiving my happy, she seduces me into sad

So, maybe I am a patient in this hospital of love, unable to come off section and wandering aimlessly,

Staring into her space, hoping my spaceship will land on something that will not kill me

But I’m a corridor of bodies that have no faces,

She’s a home with no lights that’s occupied by voices

This foul odour of something called love should be in the air,

Yet she’s stuck drowning all the oxygen with bleach

All for this feeling to burn through me,

She is just a vase of dead sunflowers that draws the attention of maggots.