you told me i was everything
yet you treated me like i was nothing
how convenient for you to compliment me only when you needed me
to get into my pants and satisfy your own hunger
but how stupid of me to let you in repeatedly

He uses
your heart
to fill
his appetite

And now I lay me down to sleep,
Adventure bound, it’s time to dream.

At once I’m in an ocean vast
As captain now, I climb the mast.
“Fire at will!” I scream out loud,
“Direct the cannons towards the bow!”.

The sky tears open, the scene has changed,
I’m strolling in the summer rain.
I grab my lady by the hand,
We’re off to see the ice cream man.
I get a shake, and she a malt,
Now yet again, the action halts.

Floating through the galaxy,
The moon now smiles up at me.
I wipe my helmet with my shirt,
And radio my crew on Earth.
“It’s gorgeous, more than I can say.”
And then I start to slip away.

The morning comes and wakes me up,
I rise and grab my coffee cup.
But this is the worst part you see,
When I wake up...and I’m still me.

I am humiliated for loving you,
For trusting you,
For believing you were someone worth fighting for.

I broke my morals and beliefs,
I gave you my heart so foolishly,
You turned out to be everything I hoped I’d never find.

You disgust me,
Not because you broke my heart,
Because you made me a second choice.

You made me look weak,
I am the girl who wasn’t good enough,
I am the girl who is pitied now.

Hope she was worth it,
Leaving me for someone else,
I am not second best and you helped me see that.

If you knew how much pain you caused me you would never be able to look me in the eye again.

Vitiate the hull of mutton
Taste the stringy woman lungs
Suffocating in coiling scaly black tar demon ***** smoke
The voluptuous carpentry is anxiously hyperventilating
Your throat is baby xylophone
You teeth are fuzzy rabbits
Their fur is thick and itchy upon your tongue

The slide of octopus silk is massaging the nerves to pointy slumber
Deep in the cauldron the baleen gates are straw and rapidly parting
For some reason they won’t swim up
You taste salt’s bite
Emerge from the sea before you drown
You silly fool

Pilgrims are waging the mass death
Great lynches mandated by God
Wailing with stinking dying young
Having a picnic at the gallows

Whiskey shivers alive
Boiling and screaming in tongues
Strobing from inhuman pain to morphine stupor’s loving numb

Your ****** is a pastor
Your child is the angel that keeps you from returning home to rosy Eden

Eve
Your families’ legs are sewn in a knot
They are frantically dancing the reel of the beheaded roach
Untie their rainbow thighs
To pay penance for your grave disobedience

Apologize to your hardworking father
He’s doing the best he can
Forgive your ungrateful daughter
Adam
Cain
David

Washroom
Pam is crying
Towels are crying
Soap is laughing
I’m laughing  
You’re Pam

You are mouse and you are crumb
Yellow red striped glaucous cat
The fawn’s neck pulsing thick with squirming lump of rat

Realize
This is all occurring
In the wan lakes of your lady eyes
Seventy six have you
Love
****
Breed

The paper walls are breathing in melodic unison with
Thee

You are the Christian
Frantic running from the lion’s jaws
You are bored and waiting for the Greek tragedy
You are Hindu
Attempting to dodge Britain’s guns
You mercilessly ram the bayonet into his muddy wrinkly face

You see the assassin firing
See the bullets pierce
Yet all you feel is your index finger hooking the smooth trigger
And the rough handle of the handgun

The black eared checkered cat
Hissing with xiphoid lizard teeth
Not pretty enough to support your drug religion

Hungers for smiling child
Hungers for drowning fear
Glazed on tattered wings of shredded feathers  
The hot slaughtered meat

Escape the toilet’s screaming
It needs
Exact
Change
The sink bedpan is overflowing with bleeding
Singing
Roses

Air is acid breakfast scented cereal *****

This film is bad it’s bad
It’s Nixon
Lenin
Jackie
Gein

EEEEEEEEEEE
A high pitched eerie screeching
Pitch shifted hymns echoing in Westminster

Your sister the spinster of my festering whisker!

Sacrifice your schedule to the great lord Day Plan
Burn the calendar
Burn the crying trees and their hair accessories

Tiny arms are sprouting from your fingers with their own tiny hands
Tiny arms from their fingers are growling with gushing stumps

A body within a body’s body
You are the human macrophage
Be a cannibal when you grow up

You realize your son isn’t yours
He’s the ******* of your rival pack
Become Cronos with radiant mane and the hairs of the velvet sun

Across the wood frame mirror
You see me smear
The graffiti crooked and huge black words
God is great
Get the pants

He lives in a world
Of never and always
Even though there is
No such land.
You could explain
All the facts to him
But he would fail to
Grasp them or understand.

It’s all about opinion
And how he feels
And the way he thinks
About what he sees.
Nothing fazes him
Nothing teaches him
And no hint of reality
Brings him to his knees.

He only cares about
What he wants to have
Or what he wants
To make you believe.
He doesn’t love anyone
He hates almost everyone
He only gets upset
But he never grieves.

He looks into the mirror
And only sees himself
Because in his universe
There is nobody else.
You are just something
That is here to be used.
If he badly wants to do it
He is allowed to abuse.

After all, sun and moon
Revolve, rise and set on him.
In his solar system one star shines
Everything else is very dim.
Since he is rich, and can afford it
He keeps paid companions close.
He can stand free thinkers
Only by the miniature dose.

You're searching for even the slightest validation for your inexcusable actions, transient in both values and the physical realm, collecting conquests and usurpees like how one might collect trophies from animals they hunt, faces frozen in a false expression with unseeing glassy eyes as they are forever immortalised in your sick collection to be made a mockery of long after the passage of time takes it's toll on both the images and the subjects.
A calculated maliciousness disguised as an indecisive personality, you are a bottom-feeder grafting onto the bellies of whomever are blissfully unaware or trusting enough to swim by you; but your own is yellow as a summer's day is long; not from just cowardliness, no, but from **** (sans the vinegar), and I wish I could compose this prose into something a little less hateful and a little more tasteful, but I won't spare you another second of my time, I'll erase you from my mind.