Unscrewing your head trying to take a glimpse at the poison that I know is inside you. Grabbing hold of loves bullet. Sleeping on a bed on nails. Running my fingers through your tracing paper hair. Choking on your perfume. Bruising from your hips. Watching while you lay next to your cabbage patch kid and your comfort blanket. Feeling your ribs that protrude from the disease of mediated anorexia. Biting hold of your dry lips until they bleed but you never tell me to stop. Your my burning fantasy.