Egypt

Lamb assemble within my fingertips like termites
Nibbling away at my bones.
Their iron wool irritates my veins,
Causing my hands to convulse,
As I stroke my whore’s chins.
She slaps it away,
Like the scarabs in her skin.
Her mass rolls over my naked body,
As the lamb are making their way to my chest,
eating my psyche,
And degrading the rest.
Her subtle whines stab what’s left of my stomach.
(I wish I could have bled for you sweetie), she shrieks.
She pulls me close
And kisses my cheek.
The lamb are becoming cold
And their fortitude’s weak.
She grabs my face and
Kisses me with her soulful lips.
         what is wrong with me?
Why can’t I sleep?
(Can’t you just quit?)