I bleed out stars from my eyes,
sniff out noble gases.
I don't do physics but gravity seems heavy
though I like gravy but I dish out the ketchup
tuna swahili sashimi, to me, I rhyme
with this chyme as you read this; I waste your time.
Oh how I wish I had more time, I'm going down
Six feet under in a few months.
A funeral with thunder and rain, sobbing and pain, a cursed chain message- pass this on as I pass on or else get hexed, but last time I checked those don't work, like she and I, we didn't work out
that's why we're fat, sad, dying, and alone.
Rich with perfume and makeup- is how I imagine a breakup,
I need the facade of contempt shooting out from your lips as you bury me deeper and farther away from the earth that failed to keep us grounded together, supposedly forever.