We could have been smart with the plot from the start
Mistakes from the spark..
We knew it wasn't love

I thought you bought me for a sandwich or something
I thought I was going to become butter toast to you—
Now you’re pouring paint into my ears while I sleep?
Stop,
the dreams are nice but I always wake up with a headache
And what are these you tuck inside my dough,
Indigo? Great—

You go to the coast and have the ocean tempt you with freedom
While painting me black from the inside out—
Good job, You’ve managed to convince everyone I’m a rock
I give up
Pour all the colors you can inside me, I suppose
Paint me scarlet red,
stick a few pieces of fresh green grass on top
And Start telling your friends I’m a tomato
Then feed me to seagulls when you’re done,
they’ll **** me out somewhere over Nantucket
And some tourist there with an obnoxiously large camera will shout out
Wow!, what a colorful lighthouse!

Twizzlers
Clenched in a man's hand
Is it a sign of nervousness?

The gooey red dye 40
Oozes into his hands
Was it just being nice?

Never being eaten
Never being enjoyed
Only being clenched
Melted
Destroyed

The twizzlers match his red shoes
Is it a fashion statement?
Or is it just to please the giver?

The twizzlers could be a sign
Why is he suffocating them?
Is it an omen?
Or merely a coincidence

I have searched everywhere for myself.
I have looked within so many times
that there are fire marks
in every empty tomb.

I can no longer find salvation in a man or in a body.

I can no longer find it in me.

I have only one place left to turn...
and that is God.
And I am going.
No, I am running.
Full speed ahead, arms wide open, tears streaming down my cheeks as I beg Him to love me.

'Cause I can't seem to love myself.