The 2 A.M Writer

Cavities

These days are about as tasteful as stale bread

But they\'re still something to feed on

Call it melancholy icing or angst riddled crust,

still a bitter taste and foul stomach

Suck on her conscience so she\'ll love you again

Leech her heart and her lust

Bomb her docks with sorrow and pity parties

I\'ll noose the flame so the child can whimper

Cry and cry a river of redundant tears

And I\'ll get drunk of your words of consolation once again

Funny, how I\'m killing you so my heart can still beat,

I guess it\'s just like what you do best

Could we together ignore the apathetic clouds?

Rolling in and spitting down drops of sadism

Pleasure in my bruised heels and snipped sack

Oh well, guess it\'s better than drowning completely

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