I’m sorry everything about me is fucking backwards.
Everything about me is wrong. I never belong anywhere.
Maybe I will kill myself, blame it on my ADD baby.
It doesn’t matter who is watching or who is listening. I don’t care. I give up.
I’m in a boat and I set sail. The needles, smoke and mirrors are my metaphorical tools of my trade. Razor wire tongue that cuts everyone…
I wish I could cut it out.
And my eyes too.
And my hands.
I wish I never existed. Because I only cause pain and suffering where ever I go
By the way, in case anyone actually is paying attention? My husband doesn’t beat me
He never has. Truly.
It’s called BDSM. It’s just KINK. You’re a fucking moron.
And if you really think that I talk about shit that’s true? Well how about use your fucking brain and think for yourself.
Actions speak louder than words.
And I’m all words.
I am no action. Like many of the fallen angels who chose not to choose a side.
Thats me, through and through. Quintessential indecision. And with my bullshit words, because of the poetic technique of rhyme.. This lonely poet rhymes indecision with incision.
I look at all the lonely people and bleed for you.
I do it to myself. No one makes me do any thing I don’t choose to do for myself.