I can't help but lust for your skin,
or think about how amazing it would be to carry on a conversation with our hands,
or help but want to lick your teeth
and feel your bones.

I guess the bugs would scare me,
and the smell would make me gag,
but your rotting face would still be beautiful to me.
Sometime's I dream about you all alone,
in the dark, with no one to freeze with you.

It's okay that I didn't get to scratch my nose,
I probably would've ended up tearing through the skin anyway.
You know I've never liked blood.
Too many dead animals on the road,
too many dead things flooding my life.
It makes me wish I were dead.

Isn't it hilarious how easy it is to change your mind?
Isn't it hilarious how easy it is to die?
Isn't it?