The smile that crosses your
face at your so-called prize
can only be described
as a sickening smirk
full of the mirth that
your sadistic tendencies bring.
As the darkening clouds touch the
horizon I am reminded of your eyes.
Close your eyes.
Black. Fucking black and
blue.
You only get what you deserve.
Vivid.
I remember the good times. Broken guitar
strings and booze.
The taste of your
lips from a shared chaste
kiss on a summer night.
Waking up in bars, on buses, elsewhere
and blinking back the
memories.
Well you asked me
to save you and
I swear that I tried
and yet it's never
good enough for
you.
Take your place in line,
become part of that
useless machine.
Maybe you are right and
messy hands, covered in paint doesn't
make you an artist so
sell all your dreams.
We'll tell the
children lies and give them
false hope like
they gave to us.
Bitter? No. Not at
all. Fuck you and
your point of view.
So maybe we can't all have 20-20 vision
but I'm not blind,
not yet.
I don't care. My faulty
fragile human body heals itself.
And I don't need your help.
Our pain shows, proves, that we
are still alive.
Place the missing part here.
Cold metal and cogs,
where the heart used to be.
The act of a careless God.
Cease. The final act is through.