My Inferno

I left it on the edge of plastic vodka glasses
and blood smeared mirrors,
On the foreskins of Greek men,
And finally, on all your cliched perfume soaked letters.
Now it is in your mouth, your throat, your stomach.
You have swallowed my teens and all those fermented mistakes.

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!

How have my weary eyes
out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!
benefit of ill! now I find the true
That better is by evil still made better;
And a ruin love, when it is built a new,
Grows fairer than at first, stronger, far more greater.
So I return pertified to my content,
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
my beloved soul....