Infested

Something inside of me has died. On several occasions to myself I have lied. My blackened heart in the palm of my hand Offering it to you just as I had planned My skin infested with your touch I can smell you in my clothes to which I helplessly clutch. Empty and thoughtless, seamless and bare Weakness envelopes me, Infectious stare. My skin burns Cold inside-starting to itch Normalcy is for what I yearn My thoughts maladjusted-My stomach turns. I take a deep breath and I slowly close my eyes Offering you another sacrifice Just to watch another piece of me die.