Sometimes I cant tell which cuts deeper...
The connection or the wounds from them.
Some connections hit so hard
It's like they chopped off your hand and started beating you with your own fist.
You dont even care that you'll never heal from this sacrificial bliss.
Because we are lonely masochists
Desperate for that dopamine fix
Meanwhile we're bleeding out from the wrist.
Begging Cupid to keep shooting arrows that cant miss.
He's the ONE dope man not worried about snitches
Because he knows that WE arent worried about stitches
Just keeps shooting the wound
Like grandaddy swinging switches.
Except I want your abuse.
I long for your scars on my tissue.
Refrac and redrill every wound
I'd rather pour out every drop of my soul to you
Than deal with my obsessive compulsive addiction issues.
Like why do I insist on hangin on to you
Even if I try to hate the connection
I know I'm stuck to you
Your wounds excite me
Like this wounding connection is EVERYTHING!!!
And I feel you hating me
But we keep vibrating at just the right frequency
That you won't-
I mean can't-
Let go of me.
I mean we.
Or is it us?
Is it ever us?
Connection will make your heart cuss.
Fuck you...
Fuck you...
Fuck you...
Fuck you...
I hope this poem cuts you.
No comments:
Post a Comment