The grain of the sand
The pen of the scribe
The song of the siren
The visions of the seer
Stuff by Me
Poetry on Heart Break 3
14 Mar 2005
I can feel you course through my veins.
Slit my throat and let you drip away.
Puddles of you make for unattractive decor,
Still I can't complain.
Splashes of you along my walls
Reminds me of a time when I used to know
Exactly what I wanted,
Exactly what I needed,
Exactly how much of you I could take.
But overdoses make for killer closest,
And too much of you means I've got poison running through my veins.
Everyone sings of suicidal, virulent endings;
I've got a literal one to call my own.
Sing me a song to sleep by.
Give me one last drink.
After I down the burn in the back of my throat,
I'll be sure of you to think.
While I throw up all my insides
And watch you bleed out my jugular vein-
Drinking alcohol before like this you die-
Everything comes out the way it came.
So this is my ending,
My last song, scene, and sandy grain.
Let me pound back one more drink
And feel you come out the way you came.