Four o’clock in the morning found me sneaking out the bed.
Slowly crawling over creamy white bedroom skin.
spider-like movements let me pass over her almost lifeless form
without making a single sound.
Hollywood whores sneak out of beds to set up tricks with dates.
Junkies sneak out of beds for dates with destiny.
I sneak out to have one way conversations, with a cypress sarcophagus.
I listened like a cat burglar for sounds of a white sheet moving across the waking nymphete asleep in my bed, but nothing.
I sighed and started our conversation like I always do with my baby in her box,“I told you I’d never let you go.”