Untitled, Unfinished

Affairs of the heart are not meant for me;
I've no desire to dance or sing.
A space,
an open door
closing, closed.
Love, that infernal whore,
is a poison,
a sickness, sickening.
Vomit on the floor,
clouds for eyes,
a loosening, lost.
I cried when my brother died,
but tears can't get you by.