i want to be your dementia

to black your gray in your brain-storm

i want to be your pace-maker

to regulate the evil in your heart

i want to be one of your tears

to run permanent mascara all over your many masks

i want to be your lingual frenulum

so your tongue wont lift when you have evil to speak

i want to be one of your faulty kidneys

to keep your impurities within you

i want to be your rem

to serve you some pre-dawn parade of horribles

i want to be your dirty bath-water

so the dirt you froth doesnt rinse off you

i want to be one of your crabs

for all the sweet nothings you whispered to the mound

i want to be these

for sending me a used condom after you left me.