The sunlight rips through 
the overcast skies 
of my concious. 
through the crack 
in the closet door 
warming the claw marks 
inside my eyelids 
the puppet seems 
to have walked 
in on his master untangling 
her strings 
but sometimes 
when I am watching 
the silhoutte 
in her bedroom window 
I think of leaning over her 
while she sleeps 
and licking the heroin 
off her lips.