Days revolving around ashtrays with lack of taste of looks

I'm a fish trapped by fishhooks and the caster is a bastard

A bastard casting hooks that only catch precious disasters

Sick of sex with strangers leaving an after taste of hasty consuming hate

It only lingers for a while

Tut after that its another infection

Killer of erections that diminishes them to quick finishes

Incapable of parading prosthetic love and lacking a transplanted heart

It's far away beating in you

I dream of fresh starts

I think of this while lying alone

Next to white walls waiting for a ring from the phone

I envision a car pulling in

A pale-skinned girl stepping out

Walking towards my door and touching it

But I cannot hear a knock

Now everything plays backwards