House of Bone

I was dying; blissfully, painfully
lying beside a Man who I couldn’t remember
my forgetting had torn him apart with its teeth
and shifted through his glistening organs
finding his heart it drank without remorse,
gulping down his disease, it flourished;
sprouting black Lilies from its forehead

I told him I was sorry
I told him I was dying
but he just stared; introverted and silent
at the person I no longer was
emitting carbon monoxide regret
towards my bloodstained form
I choked on my lethargic betrayal

I asked him if I could have his ribs,
he didn’t reply
so I stole them and built a magical house
I wallpapered the walls with his skin
and painted the doors with his blood
I used his intestines to build a Hammock
I could never swing past the heavens

The house had told me that it was my Father
and that I should do what was right;
do what people with hearts did
I packed my house into a coffin
and asked the world to build a tunnel,
to the centre of the earth where he would live
and then, I buried him out into the bubbling sea.