Disclaimer: you all know it's Larson's
She stands at the window
wearing a sheet
She stands looking out
at the folk of our street.
There are two little girls
laughing and gay,
a brace of junkis stumbling
through the foreign day.
And one from the bedroom,
his hands on her skin,
pleads, "Come to bed, baby,"
and she follows him.
I fold my glasses
lie alone on the bed
I listen to the sounds of their fucking
in my head.
I listen to the sound
as the needle hits the vein
and though we're in mid-April
the clouds begin to rain.
I dream all alone
that I hear her crying;
I dream of her tears
as she lays dying.
(Reviews would be awesome. Pretty please?)