I don’t want to live as a loner
So I become an ***** donor
Words compose my heart
I develop into art
That I impart
To those looking for blood
And those looking for love
While both push me in mud
Until my insides are no more
Through the divide I soar
To implore for the end of war
But the world keeps turning
Like the people lying on gurneys
Who’s depression has them hurt me
So I try to give them my eyes
To keep them alive
But much to my surprise
They say they want to die
When the whole point is to survive
So I offer them my legs
To help move them ahead
But they just lie in bed
Wishing they were dead
So I offer my exhausted lungs
To help them breathe
To climb the ladder’s rungs
So they’ll be set free
But they don’t want my disease
And prefer to wither in the breeze
On a time killing spree
Lamenting the life they lead
To me it’s kind of funny
If I offered drugs or money
They’d be jumping like bunnies
But instead they hunt me
For telling them what they don’t want to hear
That they’re the driver and they must steer
So I offer them my ears
That ignore their fears
But since it’s not what they want
They claim I tease and taunt
Saying I’m giving them lip
Without the quips
Just the whip
In my insensitive grip
But I’m trying to give away my brain
To block the reality show refrain
That numbs their pain
Making them empty and hollow
My shell of a body will soon follow

I'm sick of these transfusions
I always have to give
You're always the one dying
And you need my blood to live

Universally you recieve
But very picky how you donate
As a universal giver
This I don't appreciate

Not everybody can love me
Not everyone has what it takes
Only my kind,
I find,
Can love me, and love me straight

No matter the circumstances,
My love never be returned
Because our transfusion doesn't work that way
You leave me dry,
To die
And burn

If you could see us now,
huddled up
on this bathroom floor
like the wet towel in the corner,
a most-likely-used toilet brush
covered in
ash & hair
is the next closest thing
in arm's reach
to a real statement.

You want to know what it's about?
You do not
want to know what it's about.

To dunk those
pearly whiteheads
in oil and expect
a brighter shine
would just be silly.

Take the bedazzlings from
their feet
and what is left to judge
that which they do not
want to know?

I signed the papers
   to give my organs away
         after I die
              to let you know that
                   even after I'm gone
                         you can still find me  
                              inside of others.