Tainted in red, mangled, a few eyes ripped
With their stuffing bursting open at their seams
The ferocity of such ghastly imagery
Embossed into the head of a lover
Stuck in a farcical past
Drunk on scrupulous liquor, inebriated
Speaking in illicit rampaging madness
To self harming and self abuse
There is no resolve for some delusions
About a distorted idea of being loved
Or wanting to be, then being despised
Yanked out of a sense of superiority
The universe at best being the bitch
And the air rushing through their lungs
Forcing them to be alive, mocking them
While time sits, fishing, calm, tuned out
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