Tiny velociraptors hunting mice
scrape vicious claws inside my bedroom wall
and you won't answer when I try to call.
Giant ground-walking moths grown fat on rice
spilled in my kitchen cupboard flop around.
And you ignore me, even if we meet,
will toss your hair around or cross the street.
There is a spectral snapping tearing sound
The raptors eating moths, or just perhaps
they mate. I miss soft kisses on my skin
Small creatures make such an appalling din
it sounds as if the walls will soon collapse
We bit and fucked and tore ourselves apart
in all four breaking chambers of my heart.