You spent too much time chasing vampires
When you should have followed the red star
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction
Now your organs fall apart like a teenage love affair
I may not have been able to stop the collapse
But I could have at least pulled out the needles
That were placed in your cotton flesh all these years
You blame everyone for what you subject yourself to
Never accepting the underlying cause of your blackened skin
That's about the same shade as your heart is now
You were never satisfied with the beauty of poetry
Though you claimed to have it in your heart
Once revealed, all I saw was a chest of ash
The cremations of so called “terrorists” locked away
Who were probably just naive men looking for love
Mislabeled to justify war crimes and atrocities
Like an ex president with small dick insecurities
I would say that all trust for your kind is gone
That you stole it when you stepped down
Into the arms of ingots and flesh fireworks
But we both know that would rival your lies
No, this lamb will continue grazing in the fog
Until the wolves lure him away once again
I feel like a cartoon boy
Lungs filled with rat poison
Enough to drown cognizance
Middle finger sprouted proudly
Aimed directly at the Earth’s orbit
I hope the peasants see it well
As they contort in conflagration
That erupts from my tear ducts
Every time the sun dares to shine
I imagine my face on every one
And what we look like inside
Splattered across the walls
Fresh air has been giving me the bends
Home-sick for the deep end of polluted seas
Where I would put cigarettes out on my tongue
Then lick the prom queen in places she felt uncomfortable
God knows I'm too poor for the courtship
We all end up in the whale's stomach anyway
And you can't pay your way out of that
I personally always used a hatchet or two
A little dull from the blood of part-time friends
But it always did the job and left me with plenty of food
Gnawing on guts in candlelight with another serial killer
They always think this will be the night I fall to them
When I cut myself up worse than they ever could
Chunks of me buried in isolated specks of time
With a small tombstone quoting a sentimental song on each one
Any search hound will run terrified of the smell
It resembles rigor mortis under gallons of rain
Or a horde of zombies frolicking in a garden
Where everything goes to die except for emotion
That fucker will live despite holocaust, meteorites, and bombs
Lingering like the ghost of a cheated and diseased lover
