there's a sour taste brewing in my mouth, needing razor blades to peel it off. sticky & bitter, & solidifying through my crooked teeth & stuck to my gums, too. yr vampire marks have left bruises on my neck, that whiskey breath it hasn't rotted off yet.


its deafening
your defeat
its the silence
you can keep

its lingering through the sky now & i'm wondering why i even tried, i'm disgusted 100% proof of the buffalos that yr not who i thought & yr just a bore of a whore a mess like the rest you've failed all my test but i'm still not done yet

its the challenge of breaking someone that keeps me around
its teaching someone how to frown when im down
its making someone else feel just as small as they made me you see
fuck you keep your shit id rather not sell my soul for f ree