Dancing With the Dead

Another kind of romance.

She's cute

She's dead,

She's swimming through my head

her body, 

it's mine

it's morbidly divine,

her words haunt me,

but not as much as mine.

Sitting with this corpse, my torment and attraction,

f*****g this dead body, this dormant distraction.

I'm insane and this love's in vain; she's quite past dozed'

she'll have to do the talking if our romance is exposed.

Little miss, we're going dancing tonight,

lovely sight and adrenaline height,

cadaver in the spotlight.

Harness the carcass and swing her the f**k around,

this fetish, the darkest, but I can't help going to town.

Claim sedation, give you glasses and they'll never know you're dead,

oh no, don't mind her, poor doll just needs the bed.

The bed with me,

no one will see,

this pain-free spree of deceased ecstasy,

necro-nympho tendency,

sits next to me

like scissors, skin, and amphetamine.

She's dead, but not dead to me,

don't hurt me, that's what she said sweetly,

but suspended in death made her flawlessness,

impulse in every breath makes me conscienceless.

It's all I have left so I ignore the wrongness,

I can't take it anymore, so I join the nothingness.