the laugh you shared with him is open barbs to me   like razorwire on fields of open skin.   you joke about the time and how i'm stuck at home   and you're both so perfect in the way you look beneath the lamplight   christ it makes me sick      and before it gets too late   i'd like to clear my name   cos if you and he keep on like this much longer   i never want to talk to you again.      touch is the gateway drug to infidelity and as the   moon hangs bloated from a mobile made of stars and airplanes   i feel so destroyed and ugly while you reach on tiptoes to   caress the neck i'd like to push in with my thumbs.      and before it gets too late   i'd like to clear my name   cos if you and he keep on like this much longer   i never want to talk to you again.      and i'm spilling out again   and i can't even see   what should be obvious   to stupid, wind-up me   with needles in my eyes   and slabs of stone for hands   i've been demoted down    to something less than man.      i relied on hope.