he can smell traces of roadkill
in my usual perfume.
he can tell that I fit the bill
when I\'m huffing
formaldehyde fumes.
love is out to get me,
but death will always win,
when I lay there dying,
I\'ll be counting all my sins.
I am splitting at my seams
and my eye falls out
and my heart, it bleeds.
I keep crawling towards the light,
but there\'s no heaven near,
only neon signs.
all alone in a bed of earth,
next to no one,
in a blanket of worms.
how do you determine
who\'s lovely and who\'s not?
you still think about her,
but at least I\'m not a thot.