Drip feed honey soaked deceit into an IV
bag, make me believe it’s a real thing--
that I’m more to you than I’ll ever really be.
Drip feed the saccharine toxin
that’s turning me into an addict, a fiend.
I revel as the words drip thick into my veins.
They stop blood flow to my heart, shuts down each artery--
my brain. In minutes, I’ll greet the end of this pain.
But murder shouldn’t feel this good.