Blood On His Taste Budz

It’s hard to even “want” to exist when you feel like everything you do is wrong.

Almost as if your own voice is on egg shells.

And,

You won’t even know the reason,

Really.

There’s never an option of knowing.

You just sit there quietly,

Letting the internal box get smaller and smaller as your only wish becomes,

“Please,

Finish the job and crush me…”

“Can something just force me to leave already?”

“I’m too weak to finish anything…”

Then you start asking yourself,

Does it really matter that I want to slice my neck open,

Have someone grip it tight to squeeze every ounce of blood out,

And stab my ribs continously with the thickest ice pick you can find?

Does it really matter that,

No matter how happy I am,

The thirst for blood washes it away?…

2 thoughts on “Blood On His Taste Budz

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: