He follows me
I see glimpses of him
in the moments I hate him most
He is inscribed within
the red spots of my vision
after the ringing in my ears has ceased
The blue zap of anesthesia
as the fingers of my darling
brush against my cheek
I pretend that I can feel
his love pressed against my lips
But as reality dawns
he follows me
as the devil does
whispering sweet suicidal thoughts
into my listening ear.