Unwanted thoughts trespass and climb the attempted latched up gates of my mind every night and my house is too small for more dogs.
I'll tattoo on my forehead that my heart is dead and my soul is lost in your thick blanket fog.

I will remodel my studio apartment from a ****-hole into a tower so that you drain all of your power, finally never able to reach me again at all.

But too bad that I'm a coward and the hammer smashed my fingers and I knew that I would give up all along.

I know that I'll leave myself with the same wooden mess,
the same heavy chest,
and all the more bitter and sour.

I know there has to be a reason why I never feel naked
when I step into the shower
and I shouldn't be blaming you anymore.