Back in the city
and back between the sheets
unwashed
since Maria clawed at my chest
and said
'I wish we could just lie here forever'

Now it is Danielle who moves upon me
she looms in power
I hold on to her breasts for dear life
and they are the size of worlds
in which I am always dying.

And now the young drunk Swede
turns on her side and says
'Harder, harder'
and I push my thumbs in deep.
'I won't sleep with you', she says,
pledging fidelity to her boyfriend.
She sinks deeply into the pillows
and falls asleep in my arms.
I study her model face and body,
brush the long blond hair from her neck,
and think of all the things she does not know.

I can no longer distinguish
between sheets and flesh.

And now it's morning and I have not slept
and I am composing songs
that will never be sung.
They go like this:

'I tried to pretend you do not exist,
I tried to lose you in the eyes of others,
But you are the only thing in this world
That I cannot forget.'

These days I am usually coming or going.
It is an outrage that I am never happy.
I wish to blame you.
I wish to confess all unto you,
But I imagine you are too busy sinning
in much the same way,
and I think that's the vanity, the reason why I so deeply love you.
We are the same.