It’s because 

Your presence from my bed

Gives myself away, takes my sheets 

It has – no fucking business here

Between deceit and loss, you aré 

Index to index, tapping at my wrist

I meditated to my clock, perfecting 

A gin & tonic – never stronger than me

As you singly whisper to the world
Wearing your unreal face, as you stumble

In your own fiction, exotically enough

Giving your plot away, lawlessnessly 
Compelled to often forget . .