Blood on the ground,

my mind buzzes like a swarm of hornets having angry sex.
ive lost all sense of the way things were.

lately ive been contemplating the state of my soul,
surveying more for the highest bidder than for myself.
because in the end we dont own a damn thing,
not this house we call our bodies,
or the junk that lays askew inside.

To be blunt id rather pull out all my teeth
than listen to you speak one more word.
but ive never been too forward,
so ill just sit back and grin,
and grind them slowly hoping that you'll get the picture before they're nothing but bloody nubs.

i cant help but find it a little funny,
when you're crawling on your knees,
spitting blood on my feet.
i admire the color of the crimson meeting the asphalt.
oh things will work out like they always do,
me on my back,
and you sky high before your face first onto the pillow.
i find it so charming that "Fuck" is always your last word,
before your down and out.

i could spend hours talking about how things should be,
but i keep my mouth shut,
and hide away in the corners of my thoughts where you havent dared to go,
and whisper to even myself,
"This is what you wanted."