Tuesday, September 27, 2005


i scratched at my eyes, and i watched them bleed in the mirror
i touched the blood that dripped down,
tasted my own flesh
in the midst of my misery.

locked in a room, scared, because the sun is out,
when the night comes i prowl
angry and looking to find the truth to being,
in a ghost filled starless night.

the way i make myself feel is happiness,
compared to the love you show me,
call me perverse or whatever, but i never got away,
calling at me, in my death.

i'd much rather die by my own hands, than yours,
what was the love that you wanted to show?
scratches all over my arms, and back,
remind me i'm alive.

even though i know that i am broken, used
i want more of it, to throw everything away,
float away in the wind,
i want to be that piece of paper you step on.

sightless and going deaf from your lies,
the preciousness of being... lacks
and the encounters we have, bring more blood,
from my heart, from your knife

i can't sleep, the scabs break as i toss and turn,
and i live through this all,
make me hurt some more,
and maybe i will claw out my tongue next.

i will run into my grave
no don't follow, i will find the time to go insane
don't leave the stone,
toss me some dead flowers so i know you remember.


Post a Comment

<< Home