Flaming on the Banks of the Ohio

Here I am in the turquoise room
with her despair.  The cycles are
spinning.  And there are no
washrooms in this house.

Lately she has been given to
pruning as a form of documentation of her
love for me.  But all I ever asked
was for the patience to persevere in

this life as it did so in the last.
But the beast wheezes too at this
proposal.  So damaged now is the
aberration we have wed ourselves to.