(no subject)
I could cry and spit and flail and shout and never get these feelings out; to help my soul, my body, mind, and forever crash and yearn and pine. And if I die before I wake I pray the whore my soul, do take. For I have naught but pride and shame and have never known another name. Though sweet and clean and good to me your abject means mean blind could see that all should fight and fray and dive into the black to stay alive. But Ive got guilt and hurt and blame and cannot think to begin again.