Corrosion

As you corrode a harsh life, you discern a
Trash-strewn existence through ill-fitting blinds;
They may have been Venetian, once designed
To hang as you fucked listlessly. Turn her
From rain-slicked streets, so grey, because you burn
To mix cheerless rage with desperation.
The morning chill will dampen all elation,
As you come hard to blend infertile sperm
With her surrender in the shadows. Bleak
Mornings cannot burst with sunlight, when
She'll clutch elusive pasts, destined to mark
These bitter times. So cynical and weak,
Don't tease her wryly. Taunt her once again
And land that final blow: slicing her dark.