I hurt things that I come in contact with
People , the ground beneath my feet , childish creativity deep inside  , overwhelmed by panic on a city street , the queer and his feminine tendencies or the crier with his depressive propensity , love sizes me , seeking a weak angle , a tender spot , then kills me ...
I've died many times on the inside
Responsibilities , relations , relatives
Mentally beat , ridiculed , forever meek
Stepped over like a piece of rotting meat
Empty rooms are homicidal entities , friends are a temporary
truce among blood enemies