Of Her parents home
with blood gushing from her wrists
clothes that look like they've been through the shredder
bleeding mascara and the deepest holes for eyes
for once they'll crowd her, worried,
and ask,
"Who or, o-or what di-d-did this to you...?"
Her Mother will stutter through confusion
And the girl will reply with,
"It was me."
Empty and cold, She'll stand bleeding
Her mother will whimper and her father
is never anywhere to be seen.

I stand alone at parties,
With a drink in my hand,
Watching my wasted useless peers
Then you walked up to me,
Already off your ****
And it's only 20 past 6.

"Oh, please. **** me."

Ha Ha!,
Silly boy,
I wouldn't even touch you
In your most crazy, *** driven dreams,
But I'll smile politely
And say,
**"Sorry, I've already forgotten your name."

as the sun falls on another dusty, mould soaked house
you sink back down into your torn arm chair
and smile to the bottom of your glass,
bottoms up
With the faint smell of death rolling under the front door
you light up another smoke
only 1 and half packs left for the day til you're done.
with that smile still there you smooth back greasy hair
nothing but a tree scratching at the crooked window pane
refelect on your day, sweetheart, I saw it all, i know your thoughts
but you do honestly think handing out false compliments
will make you that little bit better?
will "your hair is stunning" to the balding old woman
erase every single one of your scars?
of course, were he still alive, he'd say pathetic scars.
battle wounds you call them,
battle wounds from a war he said you started
upper left arm, theres a cigar burn scar
you say, "pa, did this, filthy ****"
he meant the world to you, he abused you
but i know your thoughts, you loved him
right arm broken at age 6, it never healed real well
right hand shattered at 3, you were lucky that time
he'd chase you around the house, i know.
you paid your dues, the world was ready to give you it all
but you knew nothing more
than Bottoms up
and passing out on dusty floors.

These beasts and demons you speak of
these things you warn your listeners of
i am them,
the addictions, disorders, fears,
I am them.
They have become me, I accept that,
I am everything you all hate,
the lies, deception,
I am them
I am everything you despise in this spinning world
and I don't know how to escape their spells.

Like mood swings
on a pendulum,

My desire to give a ****
has gone again.

Only glass shatters
stop your plastic tears,

You're too **** precious to know a paper cut
I'll scream at you real world fears.

Though there is a beginning and end to every story
The human end is very different to normal
Now, now,
I'm not saying we're immortal
or you'll be a zombie until the world explodes
I'm saying there is an end, we will die
but our spirits live on through others
and supernatural explanations which are unexplanatory
(for my own vocabulary anyway)
I'm saying that one day,
we'll rot, be eaten by insects and be entirely consumed by dirt,
time will eventually allow our names to fade from paper
and dust in the wind will become our bones
but we all have that one footprint
that stains this earth forever
and we do stay here together,
We don't die, we just change shapes.
We leave our bodies and become something else,
we enter the empty space called death
to watch everyone else still breathing
with pink hearts beating.

Go on, take everything, you want to
so do it, take the money from the drawer,
the pearls from the little red box,
the watches - useless with immeasurable time,
cigars from Cuba, take those too,
Picasso rares, Da Vinci secrets,
take them all, go on.

Take the whole world into your palm
with your last inch of weakness,
just squeeze, bare your white knuckles
drain us of the materialistic monsters
and with your weakness bring us back to us,
bring us back to this earth, with nothing but a clean heart.