No one ever gives me flowers,
but I was given a rose,
I hung it upside down
and let it dry
and turn crisp.
My room is now empty save for the rose.
I untie it from the ceiling and carry it outside.
The blood red rose is now black
and trembles to pieces at my touch.
I snap it
and let it crumble
into a stream
and let the water
wash it
away.

Bogged down
by envy
of girls
***** dancing
with drink in hand
those kids
who go to parties
so much confidence
and careless zest
dancing the night away
even the most unexpected people
get a kiss
get to experience a form of togetherness
reminiscent of a cliche teenage movie
and no matter how much
I'd like to go
to see what it's like
show a different side of myself
I know deep down
I don't belong there.

I didn't eat for three days
so I could be lovely
like Yolandi Visser who's above me
if I don't eat meat
will there be extra room on my seat?
for adventures- oh
I wanna live like louis
cause you're so aw
and I'm so ew
should be the other way around
but I'm bowin on the ground
you a she-ra
he-ra
no ska
hip-hop double dutch
south paw
fighting like a gang from the hood
grew up on the rough streets
of GV
oh Jeez
so tough
smoke ****
post a pic of my blunt
love to hunt
'cause I'm so cool
be jealous of me
and my shirt that say skee
****** with the fuckbois
guys,
I think I need to grow up
haha
jk
messin with the sub
tellin my mom to shut up
I smell like shtub
ugh
I'm so oppressed right now
white privelage is hard
I'm a smart teen
marred
as an ignorant delinquent
teeth clinquant-
I can be eloquent
but I'm treated like an infant
so frequent
I act like a miscreant
nobody seems to understand
I don't even think I do
get that lotion 'way from me
gotta get tanned-
uh
dya see my abbs
dya see me ***
I'm a piece of meat
rare and raw
with seasoning
dress code
don't tell me otherwise
underneath american skies
it's all about your size
supersize the food
downsize your weight
keep it down
keep it low
till gravity
brings you crashing down
in a geneva gown
close-rubbin-
gap thighs
'cause it's
mcm
wcw
tbt
to when I did fbf
anacronyms
I don't even know how to spell it
what a ****
bathroom wall vandalism
"fat *****"
haha
so gangsta
so tough
I have it so rough
middle class white kid
you've got to be kidding me
praise cthulu
giant squid.
meme
2k15
ah

I want to light a thousand torches
to guide his way.
I want to lasso the moon
so no matter the darkness
he has a light.
but he is my moon,
he is my light,
so I can't be his.
I can't be his last match
I can't be the wind
that pushes the clouds from the sun
I can't be his cup of tea
on a rainy day
or shade on a sunny day,
I can't be the one that makes him happy.
when my only happiness comes from him
I can't be the girl
to make him smile
or wake up every morning thankful.
I want to be the hand,
forever stretched out
ready to pull him up
if he falls,
but I can't.
I can't.

He is the sun
bringing life
and laughter
and warmth
he is the moon
that lights
my black world
and pulls in
the cooling tides

Boys talk of the best legs
hair
lips
and body
specific to each
that palpitates their ferocious hearts
and it makes me weep
for I confess
facing mirror
I have none of these,
not an inch of me
there is none to speak of
or dote on.
The girls shame boys
for objectifying them
but oh
what I would give
to be objectified
just once
treat me like meat
treat me like I could yet be desired
for that is all I want,
love
and desire
and objectification.

my heart it beats fast
tries to move
tries to fly
far away
from what makes it heavy

I need an anchor
a lover
make it calm
make it easy

I need someone to keep it still
hold it down
lift the weight
that makes skittish

let it know
it doesn't have to beat so fast
to stay alive.

I DON'T need them to like me

     As I spend hours picking out an outfit I'll let them see me in

I DON'T need them to like me

     As a wrong look can send me spiraling

I don't need them to like me

     As I spend my weekends alone

I don't need them to like me

     As I cry myself to sleep

I need them to like me

     As their every word dictates how I feel.

I dropped my pencil
it fell under the table.
I left it there.
I desperately wanted to continue to write
-but-
anxiety told me no.
Told me it was impossible.
There were too many people in the room
bending down would look awkward
disturb the person next to you
make you a pitiful inconvenience--
so I left it there.
I couldn't even pick it up when I left.
Because Anxiety was right,
it was an impossible task.

I don’t get mad.
Somebody’s yelling- frowning
Nobody seems happy
Everybody’s looking at me
  what’s with you?
sunshine
no sunshine
my wrists -- I’m sorry
  feeling hot
  cold
  older
  stressed
  upset
  furious ~ I shake
wanting both hands to stop
  stop
Breath  -- Just Breath
I can’t see
this monster
let slipped
         prying my neck
my eyes
melting eyes
trying to avoid hamburger
    I didn’t want a hamburger
      this monster looking at me
yelling
    What did you do?!
avoid
avoid hamburger
   stop
   furious
   cold
   upset
I’m not normal
outside my name
  somewhere
I didn’t want a hamburger
wanting to protect
  for once sunshine
   finding me
for once into me
why do I care
I didn’t do it
  on purpose
  on purpose
  I hurt
  my wrists
somebody’s yelling
          Breath
      Just breath
        I’m sorry,
        I’m sorry,
I’m mad

just a girl
confused about boys
trying to find her place
laying on the floor
watching Skins
dying to be skinny
but can't stop binging
crying over silly things
heartbroken over matters
that in years won't matter
lonely
angry
misunderstood
broken inside
writing poems
because I'm so deep
and unique
no idea
how to be social
without the media
staying away from drugs and drink
because that's the only way to cope
with past tragedies
that have soiled my good dress
so I only wear pants
in case I need to go on an adventure
so my life can be more like those teenage movies
with dancing
montages
love triangles
and happy endings
thinking I'm extraordinary
pretending I don't notice
how conformed and ordinary I am
unsatisfied
reactive
and inactive
I'm just a teenager
no different from the others
I'm just a teenager
and soon I will grow up.

the theatre has fallen,
the great black box is no longer a home away from hell
it is a soundscape of fear and hunger
where I can't feel accepted
and no longer respected
it is a nest of inferiority
and a longing for conformity
lonliness eats my heart away
though exactly why, I cannot say.
It used to be my home
my kingdom,
but on return from summer
it was as if the house had been renovated,
a new family moved in
and I'm not even a guest,
I'm a ghost, unseen by all
drifting through walls that used to be
stuck in the past
desperate to breath with the living.
But instead I stay in back,
haunting all I see,
under the realization,
that the only one being haunted,
is me.

I'm stuck in the past
living for the future
always thinking
never doing
responding
reacting
never waiting
letting my imagination get the better of me
stuck in my head
stuck
like a stick in the mud
I don't mean to be
but end up
just that.

It's time to be stuck in the present.
to live for the now.
Always doing
waiting to react and respond
calm the thousand scenarios in my head
stuck in my heart
stuck
like an impulsive juvenile
like I mean to be
and end up
just as I've always wanted to be.

Harley found her Joker
she fell head over heels
he got her
understood her
was one in the same
made her heart flutter
scared her so bad she'd stutter
but made her feel unstoppable
and happy--
but Joker didn't love her
like she loved him
Joker didn't want her around
Harley didn't realize
how much pain the Joker really caused,
so Harley found Ivy
who taught her she didn't need mista J
and she was fine
and free
and happy by herself--
but every time she sees her mista J
she falls once again
forgetting all she learned
wishing nothing more
than for he to be Harley's Joker,
and she Joker's Harley

I've always been very good at video games,
I've got a natural knack for them.
But I've always encountered a specific problem
I can never seem to be rid of.
"You are over-encumbered, you cannot move"
yet again
I've stuffed my pack full
of weapons clothes
food
books
things I don't need
but get attached too.
I slay unimportant people
and make homes for myself
during my travels,
so I'll always have a familiar place to stay
because my weakness
is that I'm never fully invested in the missions and quests,
but interested in the world itself.
So I pick things up
keep them to myself
physical objects that add so much weight I cannot move--
to match the real world
where I'm over-encumbered with all this emotional distress
that I start collecting
and hoarding
--movie posters mostly--
most people have never seen my room
those who have
gasp in awe
for it is beautiful
filled with a thousand different interesting little things--
but also an unspoken understanding
that I am a hoarder,
that this many things is not natural
but I cling to them,
I've got to cling to something
can't throw this bottle out
it's got a good memory
and I've got so few good memories...
No matter how hard I try
to focus on the quest
I get wrapped up in the world
the character
and once again-- the message pops up
"You are over-encumbered, you cannot move"
and it's so right,,,
as long as I've got this weight,
I can't go anywhere.
I have no choice
but to decide what's best
what's necessary,
and leave the rest behind.

If only it were as easy in real life
as it is in video games.

for one moment,
for just barely a breath,
I felt whole.
happy
eased
calm
beautiful
youthful
and completely okay.
but it was just a moment,
one that shall not be repeated.

You dream about your day in the sun
A shot at the spotlight
Fifteen minutes of fame
Oh
You fantasize about chance meetings
Lucky opportunities
Late night drinkin’ at parties
Oh
Honey
Well
You may be skinny
But you got no muscle
You may dream big
But you work small
With ease
Unaware fame is a disease
It’ll break you
‘cause you aint anybody
sick of people hearin’ your name askin’ who?
Too much makeup lookin’ gaudie
Looks is all you have
No ambition- talent to be had
You
Think about the result
The perks
Obssessed like the cult
Think you know how it works
Down on your knees
Flex that ***** it’s a tight squeeze
Longing to be seen
Desperate for the 15
10 + 5
and you’re in the hive
10+ 5
but it’s a straight dive
10 + 5
will make you feel alive
You think you’re one of a kind
You’ve made up your mind
you need that 10+5
but it won’t last a lifetime.

My father hit me.
Hands strangling my neck.
I was just a kid,
he said it was my fault,
I believe that it was.
He said I didn't deserve to live,
I believe that too.
I believe his screams
and the bruises he laced my body with
I believe his words
that I'm nothing
that I'm garbage.
I blame that monster
for breaking something inside me
that 7 years later is still not repaired.

I blame her for never calling the cops.
For calling me a liar
for telling me I gave the bruises to myself.
for making me feel guilty.
I blame her for telling me she wished I was one of her miscarriages
I blame her for telling me I'm good for nothing
for telling me I'm fat
for telling me,
like him,
I deserve to die.

I blame them
for the anxieties
and anger
and fears
and panic
and the scars on my heart.

I'm scared of the world.
I'm scared of it's people.
I need help.
I'm dying.
slowly.
quickly.
steadily.
and not at all.

I feel everything,
every word
every breath
is a dagger to what once was a heart
when every day
you're told you're wrong
you're told you're a mistake-
an inconvenience-
that could never be loved
it takes an effect
you cannot fight
and just when I think
maybe I can get better
a single word
sends me spiraling
dying
crying
suffocating
and scared
wishing someone would touch me
in a kind, gentle way
would hug me till I fall asleep
and love me
even though I cry a lot.

I was told
the blame was on me
that I ruin
and poison
everything I touch,
but I blame them,
so much so
I can't get better,
so maybe we're both to blame.

You're here if I need you,

but not the way

that I need you

"oh god, seeing you in that dress
makes me realize just how fat you've gotten
why didn't you brush your hair?
I don't care if you wanted it curled that way it looks awful!
who's he?
he looks like a freak,
this is disgusting
I can't believe you embarrassed me this way
you nasty **** I bet you lied to me too!
I don't understand where I went wrong
to have such an ugly sinning daughter"


oh yes,
what would I be without my mother?
happy.
I'd be happy.

The key is to remember,
I really do not matter,
not to a single person I meet,
not to a passerby on the street,
To unlock happiness
and never be disappointed,
the key is to remember
I am nothing
and no one.

black pig
little thing
so different
from the rest.

Black pig,
outcast,
kicked out
of mother's nest

black pig
thrown against the wall
father says
you're nothing but a pest

black pig
raised with religion
despite these bruises
I'm supposed to feel blessed

black pig
grows up
fat ugly
lonely and depressed

black pig
******
scary memories
making it feel stressed

black pig
can't forget
the pain
inside it's chest

black pig
remembers
hands around it's throat
too small to attest

Black pig
wonders
why there was never
any arrest

black pig
haunted
broken
by things repressed

Black pig
not fixed
wants to be
the best

but Black pig
black pig
cries and shakes
with a deep fearful unrest

The walls are thin
and I can hear them
talking about me.

They don't bother to whisper,
shouting my faults
insults
teases
blaming me
for all that is wrong.

The walls are thin,
and even blasting my music
lovely lana
cannot drown out their curses.
but the walls don't really matter.

Funny,
people drive me home
and they say
they wait
to make sure I get inside safe,
but don't wait
to make sure I come out safe.
One foot in the door
and the insults come rushing
it's a battle to breath
only harsh cruel words are spoken
and my silence cannot lessen them.

Every breath I take
is deserving
of a slap in the face
and screams
inches from my heart
the air is cold
and tense
so I keep the lights off
so the only light
comes from my computer
where I can hide away
in fictional stories
and superheroes
wishing I was one of them.

The walls are thin
the walls don't matter
it's like they're not there at all
I'm always under attack
getting text messages at school
to let me know how bad I am
I have nowhere to run
nowhere to go
no place to stay
I'm stuck fighting every night
bones too weak from the fight
to get up each morning
the best I can do
is stay barely alive
seconds from tears
hoping one day
I can be liberated.

Baby you can talk
you can talk to me
everything little thing is gonna be okay
and that's all they ever say
like it's so **** easy,
but speakin up like you ask makes me queasy.

They let me know
every other day
"I'm here for you
you can tell me true
if you're feelin blue
I'll do the best that I can do"

no.

Once again
assuming
presuming
talking is a matter of having someone
to make the past undone
make you stop tracing
where bruises once were
because apparently it's all a simple matter of facing.

them.

them is all I think about
it's always on the brain
clouding vision like a storm
flooding my system with rain

You say I can speak
say it'll make everything better
but I can barely write a letter
to myself
I'm sittin dusty
on my study shelf
lots of words written
but none of them read
because the world is blind
and they need to hear it
to believe it
to make it real
and I want to speak
to those who are undeniably kind,

but it's not as easy as it seems
fraying at the seams
I'd like to speak
speak up loud
evaporate the storm clouds
but given the chance to vocalize
give you an issue to focalize
in the end of it all
I'll just run away,
because I don't know where to begin
and I'll never know what to say
so afraid of my sin
though,
in silence,
I'd still like you to stay.

I'm 18 today
but I feel 80
more like an old crickity relic
long forgotten,
never treasured,
wandering around
trying to figure out where I fit
where I might belong
hoping someone will dig through my crusted dirt
and polish me off
knowing that I am gold underneath,
but I fear I will have rotted away
before that ever becomes a possibility.

I'm different
yeah I'm different,
I'm different
yeah I'm different,
been praised
since birth
for my originality
*****
mentality
bow down
to the freak of freaks
with the good techniques
compliments of god
just for being odd
think I'm plagued by benality
cursed by originality
they think it's the coolest
they think it's so great
they don't understand
how this twists my fate
I'm different
yeah so different
pretending to be indifferent
to being treated
maltreated
isolated
outcast
never understood
different isn't so good
and if I could
I'd be so much more generic
I'd have little simple thoughts
eco friendly watts
get starbucks on weekends
do my nails and hair
highlights down to there
and if you only knew
how it feels
to be so **** alone
you wouldn't be so prone
to envy my creativity
when it's met
with such negativity
to have no coherence
of proclivity
I'm a slave
in captivity
people come by and watch
but don't touch
they point
ooh and aaah
but they don't know what to feed me
how to care for mee
my biggest strength
is my biggest flaw
Since birth
I've been told
I'm so original
but I'm so broken it's clinical
almost criminal
these thoughts I have
living in a world so fictional
I'm so ******' lonely
and hungry
and slowly
freezing to death
with no one to keep me warm
or speak to
I'm cryin up a storm
because no one understands
no one knows my heart
no one knows my soul
you'd think with all this praise
I'd be able to climb out of this hole
but truth be told
lord behold
I am a long sad story
nobody can unfold.

I want to bathe him in sunlight
or moonlight
whichever he prefers
as long as it's light.

I want to speak words
that'll stitch up the heart
and bandage his wounds

I want to wash away
his sins
and let him start again

I want him to wake
eager to start the day

I want him to have no doubt
no fear
no worries

I want to make him happy,
more than just okay
I want every day
to be worth his while,
even if those days
do not involve me.

I wish I could say words
that would make him better,
but I don't even know how to make myself better,
I don't know what to say
I don't know what to do,
but I know I must try.

Give me a sword
and I will cut through the tension,

give me a gun
and I will shoot the bullets
into the dirt
so they don't go elsewhere,

put me in a ring
and I'll tap out
before the bell has rung,

try as you might,
gossip
spit
hit
kick
blame me
insult me
taunt me
and tease me
there is nothing you can do
to make my fists clench,
to make my brow furrow
to incite a rage within me,
for even in defense,
I am a lover,
not a fighter.

for once
I would like to fall asleep
in someone's arms
and drift to happy dreams
feeling safe,
and warm,
and calm,
perfectly at ease
breathing in their scent
knowing
that I wouldn't mind
waking up.

and suddenly-
all the minor boys
all the petty crushes
vanished into thin air,

the only thing that mattered was him.

he is a lovely person
with lovely hair
and lovely thoughts--
he is the only one
I do not feel scared of,
one I could let see me cry
and tell all my feelings
every little thought I have
and all of my truth,
never a lie.

He is one who makes me warm
he is one who makes me happy
he is one who makes me feel
like I may yet, be important.

I feel what he feels
and I know how it hurts,
I only wish I could make him happy
make him never sad
and the thought
that he may
on occasion
feel like I do every day
horrifies me
and makes me weep,
for he is a good soul
who could do me no harm,
a man the world has wronged,
a truly lovely person
who deserves
no such pain.

It is amazing
how just the thought
of having to go home
can incite such tremendous fear,
trembling hands
watery eyes
a bad mood
and heavy weight
making my body tired and slow?
Isn't it fascinating how
no matter the great day
the timeless adventures,
the tender hugs,
going home
can make it seem
like it never existed?
isn't it wild
isn't it phenomenal
isn't it crazy
how simply going home
can make me want to die?

I look through my telescope
from my small dark cave
to admire a great and mighty tree
unlike any I have seen.
I wonder who else, has admired this great tree?
I wonder who has sat beneath and read poetry?
What has the tree seen?
what will it become?
has anyone ever tried to cut it down?
does it weep over the scars?
I want to know all the tree
feels and thinks,
eager to hear it's stories,
wondering
if it would like to hear mine.

They say he is the man
I say he is a great and mighty tree,
he stands tall
and moves with the wind,
he wears a color for every possible emotion
so bright it contradicts
his quiet, watchful eye.
His thoughts and words are funny
and wise beyond the years of his youthful appearance,
I can't read his face
or hair that's here today but gone tomorrow,
and he is too far away
for me to search his eyes for answers.
He is beyond my reach
out of my league
there in the distance
amidst a raging sea
on a beautiful island
all his own
he stands
an enticing mystery,
a great and mighty tree.

I'd be lying if I said
I wouldn't mind looking at him more often,
since I first laid eyes on him
he has fascinated me.
He has funny clothes and earrings,
sometimes he wears a skirt,
his locks are lovely
--he shaved them off--
but he still looks cool,
like many I pass on the street
I'll never know anything more about him
other than his name,
I only discovered his inner poet
by being in the right place at the right time,
and let me tell you,
he writes like a God.

I want to hang out with you
but I don't drink or smoke
I want to laugh with you
but I'm not as funny
I want you to like me
but you're way skinnier than me
more attractive too
and oh god that hair;
funny ***** and lovely
to match your personality.
I overhear you say
no one gets the anger that fills you up
that makes you smoke
but I guess you'll never know
that same anger
has eaten my soul,
I want to know more about you
but I'm sure you eyes glaze over me,
you don't even know I'm here.

He likes to light up
light me aflame
puts me to shame
for all that I am..
I am a forest filled with weeds
and droopy trees
but he spends hours
picking through
looking for flowers
at the sight of none
I know I'm done
filled with anger
he lights up
lights me aflame
burns my weeds to ashes
roots to coal
and trees to stone
smoke signal of despair
suffocating smell of loss
a graveyard I hoped someone would love
but why love the ****
when you can have the flower?
why care for something in need
when you can double your power?
he likes ****
but of a different breed
lighting up with flowers
who personalities are sour
me behind
scorched and scared
just a ****
wishing
I was his kind of ****.

You got lost in the woods
that was so long ago
they looked and they looked
but when they found you
you'd already been gone so long
what would you think
to see all the people
posting on your facebook
what would you think
to see all these people
posting how sad it is
how sorry they are
how ripped up they are
even though they only knew you by name
by occasional meeting
so many people
posting "so sad"
but not feeling it.
posting "I'm praying for your family"
but how many are really praying?
posting "gunna miss ya bro"
and giving it no other mention?
lots of sad emoticons
and sharing of that **** police report
but nobody is saying anything real
anything noteworthy.
I never heard of you until now,
but your death means it's a fad
and everyone's saying how sad they are
but they're not really feeling it.
They're so used to just typing R.I.P.
and using sad emojis
that only a select few
are really hurting,
the rest are just making it trivial.
I'm sorry for your loss Lucero,
I'm sorry you're gone,
I'm sorry people see this
as a bandwagon
jumping on
because that's what they're used to doing,
and that's what they'll keep doing.

Vain and careless children
speaking tall tales
looking for acceptance
no time for repentance
for they were taught
acceptance of themselves
is not necessary
it's not a thing
they should explore,
what is oneself
but that which
you've been told to be

spinnin' round and round
movin' bodies
can't touch the ground
vain and careless children
playin' till dawn
making too many mistakes
they can't fix
before they are gone.

You hate the sound of your own voice
Too manic to make a ******’ choice
Trapped in your head
Can’t get out of  bed
Cold like you’re dead
You don’t know what you want
Jealous of the girls and how they flaunt
You want to be just like that
But you think you’re too fat
So you try to be zef
Scared to tell people you’re a little more than deaf
A little thought like this
Is death’s sweet kiss
Comatose for hours
Fretting and crying
Scorching hot showers
Sick of denying
You hate your own existence
Wish you could stop the resistance
Stop Hell’s persistence
Reach for social assistance
Hiding away in sleep
Wishing dream boys would keep
Scared by your daddy
Fukin stuck way back then
Tellin’ yourself you a fatty
Meditating-you think you’re so ******* zen
But you’re throwing things
And screaming sins
And sawing down your wings
Pretending you’re wearing different skins
Just to cope
With having no hope
You’ll ever get better
You’ve made your own fetter
And you have no ****** idea
How to live as a whole human
Shaky hands never made a stria
Permanently in ruin
An evercrashing mistake
You feel there’s so much at stake
You don’t know where to begin
So you just stand so ****** still
Spending every day ill
Wishing someone would touch your cold hand
And finally understand
That when it comes to this blockage
You’re an already dead hostage.

I listened to my stubby heels echoing light clicks and clacks

on the ***** pavement,

a sound far better than the the laughter and chatter of the previously escaped classroom.

I mozied along the empty campus, feeling warmed by the bits of fog that clung to the air

and moss trees towering from pine needles in a very still way

that if not for the fog's gentle swaying I would have assumed the world to have stopped.

I liked it that way best.

When things are still and quiet and full of posibility

but you choose not to reign in that possibility because you love the freshly chilled air,

air so fresh it makes you want to fill your lungs with it

and take a To-Go bag as well.

Sometimes I sit and look out,

silently hoping that if I sit there long enough I too,

will become quite still and fresh fog might cling to me

and someone else might admire me as part of a still world,

like a picture in a golden frame.

If you’re a useless ******* and you know it clap your hands
- clap clap -
If you’re pathetic waste of space and you know it clap your hands
- clap clap -
If nobody cares about you and there’s nothing you can do
If you wanna cut out your heart and throw it clap your hands
- clap clap -

People used to call me "The Machine",
they used to tell me I was stone cold
and if I had a heart, it was a frozen shell.
They'd laugh like it was just a joke
between friends
but it wasn't.

They used to say
every ******* day
that I was empty inside
that I was absolutely nothing.
I wrote fast
and did my homework
and spoke well
and was graceful in my manners
I was the teacher's pet
who never spoke
or disrupted
I was a little robot
going about my routine,
so they called me The ******* Machine.

I was so desperate to have another name
I did my best-I tried so hard
to play their game;

I wore myself some pig leather
paraded it as human skin
I tried to smile
I tried to laugh
I tried to imitate all I could see
but still they called me
The ******* Machine.

I am the girl, I am the machine,
I am the animal licking up **** off the street.
wires are crossed,
the mind is confused,
there's an existential crisis,
an error in the system,
I want to wipe the hard drive clean
forget about being prom queen
for after all my troubles
they've only doubled
so many thoughts-
emotions-
tearing me apart
so many feelings that don't do a ******* thing,
so I think I'd like to go back,
and be just The Machine.

Let it infect you
let it be that itch you can't get
let it grind your teeth to the gum
let it burn your skin raw
let it be a restless night
Let it effect every breath you take
every move you make
every thought that passes through your mind
let it poison them
let it break you
beyond repair
beyond redemption
let it transform you
into just a thing
that can be described
in just one word