Movement XI: Scream.

coated in glittering debris
your lying pseudo-poetry
is so disturbingly lovely
is it all about me?

with all your strange dreams,
and your malicious schemes;
your beauty streams
from holes in your screams.

now you hurt deep on the inside
down where my name is inscribed.
i hope you know that i never tried;
i guess you know that i just lied.

i'm so fucked; this decay gleams
with all your toxic moon beams
your beauty, my god how it streams
from those little black holes in your screams.

what is the matter?
don't you matter?
what is the matter?
you don't matter.

tell me of your bad dreams
tell me of your pointless schemes
and i will watch as your beauty streams
from all those holes in your screams.