I'm tired of writing poems for you that you will never read because
It is pointless like everything I try to do
Lock me in a cabin in the woods until I have to consume my own hands to stay alive in the cold
That's what it feels like when I offer them over and again and I am forced to crawl back into
My individual world where only I understand and I can't let anyone in as
My want for you is as strong as a cannibal craving to eat you alive and washing you down with cheap red wine.