Painkillers

My head is always pounding
my sober soul has been diognosed
drunk on diseases which attack
the heart.
flesh gleaming, shinning, peeling
eyes glazed over, raw and dry
my heads split open
lungs breathe in sour cuts
fingers reach out through frozen tombs
my room, my sanchuary, my safe
decays green ashes and dreams
my head is sick
with the pain of emotions
I want black roses, orange lilies
my blue dress
to cover the cuts and brusies
my head no longer aches
when the clock strikes
I'll miss you
but I told you I would go first.