Used up, chewed up, spit out, and stomped out.
Laid under newspaper to hide from sight and from the cold.
I stare at the headlines I'm buried under tonight
Not reading the words 'cuz I know that they only spell, "Fuck you too!"
I can't see the red of the blood on your hands
I can't see the blue of my breath that you choked out
I can't see the light of the days that you've stolen
I can't see the stain of your teeth from the meal that you made of my heart.
Okay...I'm done venting for now. Its amazingly therapeutic. Not very good for songwriting...these short outbursts of emotion. Perhaps I can go back one day and start combining these little snipits of verse and make one gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, head-splitting, soul-touching song that can be ultimate reference point for pain. Then everything else that doesn't hurt that much, I can dismiss...like comparing a paper-cut to the guillotine.
So I'm done being all dark and dismal...or as some say, "dramatic"...
Fun to follow later.
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