Worms Thine Heir

I resigned to teach myself a pragmatic end,

and learn to love to hate you.

Thereupon I wondered, what would be a better death?

To glimpse your face, sadly aghast, as you slowly slip away?

Or watch me slaughter, blade to bone, and the days I felt at all? 

I feared your inferno masked in subtle charm,

but those blazing nights are through. 

I took your broken nerve-gas bottle, the one you labeled "Love"

A tube you used for grown-up play-dates, 

and a cuspated needle new.

In that instant, delirium I feared, would take me all the way.

But instead I found that your muffled sounds,

helped me find,

the vein to end it all.