Fri April 5, 2019
That hurts, I said
But it doesn't really matter.
Cause the moment that I speak on it, the feeling's getting flatter.
And the splatter from my bleeding out is getting rather layered.
As it dries on top of other blood the colors getting grayer.
My history unaltered lies in pages on the floor.
So much more than people recognize, but they're stuck outside the door.
Cause the barriers that I reinforce are keeping my heart poor.
This lonely chore that drags my soul ashore is one that I abhor.
Every other second my reality is shifting
And the plains on which I stood begin to change as my mind's sifting
Through the pixels and the data that make up my current stage.
As the wires tap into the memories of eternal rage.
As the fires flap against my art, I plan to burn this place.
As required by my lonely heart, I scan and turn the page.
As a dire one last chance restart, I fan the growing rage.
As my cry erases all, departure set, my mind turns beige.
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