At one point I couldn’t find love to purchase I thought you ended those searches but now I’m getting nervous thinking I might be allergic to your nature absurdist and I can’t swerve this feeling I’m worthless stripped of all purpose boils start to burn us.
I’ve got an eczema sense of a relationship rashly lips can’t kiss who they wish.
I can’t leave the house or your eczema breaks out you scream and shout and make me doubt if your love is devout when you treat me like trout.
Stress boils through my skin after you tell me I win and leave my house of sin leaving a gift in an itch given by a witch to make me twitch.
You’re the itch that rashes causing unnecessary scratches leaving a width of lashes on my skin in patches your personality matches the blistering ashes of my skin that detaches.
I keep itching I keep scratching to be switching from your thrashing into comfort to numb hurt of dumb words creating thunder.
A doctor gave me a prescription to avoid your dereliction and feral diction. He gave me an antidote in a plan of hope helping me cope with saying nope.
The rash lingers like poison fingers choking me woefully draining life like rain at night I pray for light and wait inside.
I found cortisone in the form of a home with a man so I’m in demand not your empty hand red from the brand of all the discomfort you withstand now that you’re itching like sand seeing I’m no longer ******.