somewhere down your deep black hallway
i saw drippings of blood on the wall:
a concoction of overmixed paint
and pumping from your thin blue veins
white walls seem to hold on to everything -
the stains of childhood dreams
and youthful lusting,
all of which still lingers on your walls
there is a spot of blue on mine
from when you crashed into it
within my sheets and the fabric
bleed from the sickness on my bed
but that will come out with some elbow grease
whereas yours will take some back rubs
and many more kisses
before i can clean up this mess i left on your walls
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