tears meet with empty taste
i've forgotten the old flavour
but it's becoming more apparent i can never see my own face
without thinking i could cut myself out of this skin with a grade A knife
if my body is a temple
i often wish i could burn it down to the ground, and watch as the rain washed me away into the rivulets
as the people throw stones at cars i can only imagine them to be my God
slowly skidding to the left, it wonders if it can ever find a way again