I lay in bed writing
Heart beat a steady pace
Awaiting Monday with is here already
The bitch is always ahead of the race
All once seen faces gone forgotten for a blurr was where there face...
Was supposed to be
But, I couldnt see
Body to mind...connected
Cradled pen in my hand
Awaiting the pain to hault my work in the presence of a cramp
Pen doesnt want me to write
For if I do it dies
Still it's death is one I'd like
Why even try to lie
Write away all in it's blood
Black instead of red
Random thoughts floating in my bed
Postponing the time when darkness will overcome my head
Look Down!!!!
My sheets are all crimson red
Pillow covers crimson red
Cover is black but the trim still has a little red
The walls are white and I'm waiting for the sun to come up
Thinking how during masterbation it seems so hard to get the cum up
In the end will e the same sum up
A drip here or there
Sometimes a squirt
Wipe my hands on a dirty shirt
A make believe skirt
And blame it all on how hard I work
Work? Oh I mean the pain in my arm
If you could reproduce from jerking off I swear I'd have a farm...
Of perverse kids that would videotape me doing it from outside the yard
Surrounded by fucking retards
Their influence has left me scarred
I'll blame life on them
Instead of my sins
Or how I came up and where I've been
Or even on the wind...
But GOD's not to blame
All she did was give me this life
I'm the one supposed to put up a fight
It's just so fucked up that I'm easilly satisfied
Easilly tantilized
Harldy petrified
So, try to understand how hard it is for me to comprehend that I'm not right
Or after all these years I still remember the night
She gave her life away
And wouldnt even let the baby stay
"Just shut up now! Your mind is saying crazy things. During your sleep you know what kind of dreams that will bring. The kind you always get but never the ones that you want. So, place the pen down and never again write this much. For your hand is not hurting. And your brain is still working. Paper is still there slurping...the blood from the pen. Feeding on what your brains throws up. Try to focus on the red. Rememeber? The pillow and the bed??? How comfy it feels against your head. And the whiteness against the walls. Just go to sleep. Allow those eyelids to fall. Die tomorrow. Dont die today. Youve been up too long. You dont know what youre trying to say. You dont know what you are doing. Slowly writing you nights away. Let the pen simply fall from your hand. End the pens bleeding torture. Kind of funny you can't see that the pen is red while your bedsheets are black. The ceiling remains bright white."
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