The Bed Is Burning

The marriage bed is burning, and I don’t hear anything at all. My diction is failing, the seams are splitting open on everything that we knew. Disgust and distain pirouette in violent coitus. Emotive backlash. Shit titan stressor. Erode me. My own ceaseless thought, pedaling in circles. There are no walls that can contain the bleak doubt that rests inside of us. I can smell the mantle burning, the wood is screaming and splitting open. The white mare isn’t leading me anywhere, ash and soot is all that i have left.