I couldn't stand thinking about you;
I started drinking about you.
Wine ran thin,
morphed to blood.
You called me psychotic,
I've just seen too much of you to be sane.
Like bruised ribs
and eyes black as the pit in your chest.
Where is your heart?
Washed away in the rain,
dripping through cracks
so girls below can catch a glimpse of hell.
Enough is enough.
The words inside melodies never say anything new,
but I listen on repeat just in case
I catch a glimpse of anything true.
Or things I lost when the flood broke my bones,
Making an enemy ship of our sullen home.