Your need is a knife,
Sometimes a chainsaw.

It cuts at my shoulders,
The bones in my arms,
Some days it's quite greedy,
Wanting a share of my soul,
Dissecting a chamber or two
of my heart.

You eagerly want to drink my sanity,
To dehydrate me of any positivity,
Till life seeps through me and into you,
And osmosis makes us even,
Two distorted figures with no aim,
That's when you can sleep.

I'm afraid we can't both reside
in my fraying body,
You weigh a million unsaid words,
And my spine isn't strong enough
To keep pushing us through
your derailing paths.