Unstable weather

Sitting by the balcony door,

Having a cigarette while 

It's pissing down outside and

I'm trying to blow the smoke out.

A lightning makes me aware 

Of my septum piercing

And I'm calculating my chances 

Of getting an electrical lobotomy.

Tis the season

It's hard to let yourself feel loved

When you can't get out of bed,

Brush your teeth or wash your sheets,

Change your clothes... cause nothing fits 

Anymore. And then you remember

It's the seasonal and monthly curse.

Cause every month feels like September,

And every day's a Monday. No purpose,

Nothing is strong enough to get you going,

You're always sad, your eyes stopped glowing.

 

I would let you

Wrap your tentacles 

Around my soul 

In a tight embrace.

And as you squeeze it

You'd fill up the holes of

Surface craters dripping

Sweet and sour waters.

You're digging for the core

Of my surrendered being 

From opposite directions,

You seem to have that reach.

And I would allow you

To rip me up in pieces 

Just so I could watch you

Devour my remains.