The Beguiled

You can go outside and choke for all I care.
You can take your soulless vapidity —
You don’t offer me solace anymore.
Defiance is not a state, it’s an action.
Your mind is
empty dust-filled rooms.
It’s fucking disgusting with your confidence.
Surely there should be some connection between
womb and child.
Between your conspiracy vomitus
and my need for practiced guile.