It's said if you get hit by a High -speed train
The body-bag needed to house your remains is no bigger than the one needed to fit your sandwich in at lunch

As I pass Brielle and South Amboy, Perth Amboy and Secaucus at 80 mph
I stare out into the swamps festering with industrial run-off
And the bombed- out buildings of once thriving towns
I get the feeling that I want to return to the earth

People tell me a lot of things
They don't ask much
They tell me I can be successful at anything I choose
They throw around words like charismatic and love and passionate
They tell me that I have the mark of Cain
They fail to realize
Charisma is for the talentless
Passion is blood on your hands at the end of the day
And love is blood and war and a dark place and feeling that keeps you in bed

Some call this depression
But to me it's  seeing my world as it is
Not as it might be

I tell anyone who will listen
I can't get over you
Guess I'm hoping for one final piece of sage advice
But the blind are the blind for some reason or other
And I can't look at myself in
The mirror these days

I've never made a habit of Walking on the tracks
It's not that I want to be in a zip-lock body-bag but I don't own a gun
I've smoked enough *** for five lifetimes
And I don't care that I have never seen the Pacific
Water is just water anyway Right?

If I never were to see you again
You'd join an ever- growing line of women
Who tell themselves they never heard my name before

Women I gave a piece of myself to
A kiss on the forehead and spine
A squeeze of the hand
A look that says "I only feel safe in my own skin, when yours is touching mine."

Maybe those looks are the problem
Maybe the kisses are smothering
I might be throwing up red flags to everyone

   Swap spit with him and he will be upside down in love with you
   Swap any other body-fluid and you might have to change your Locks
                            Phone number
                                    Point of view
But it's not that
I never set out to ruin anyone's day
Or scare them into thinking i'm Patrick Bateman

It's just when I share these looks, kisses, fluids
More often than not, even if it was some kind of
Mistake amongst random strangers/lovers
I'm giving a piece of me to have
Marked FRAGILE: THIS END UP

Label me transparent and then see right through me
When I find myself giving away chunks of my person
I can't seem to tell where love and blood
Begins
and
Ends.