Misanthropic Fate

A lover hung on her death row
I was hooked on her disease
Highly strung like Cupid's bow
Whose arrows hungered meat
And the blinding flare of passion
In the shade of narrow streets
Where their poison never rationed
All the tips they left in me

Two tracks
Bric-a-brac
Something passed between us
Like a bad crack
Upward-lit
I'd met another kind...