I should have stabbed you when I had the chance

The numbness overlaps the chaos of the day. 

Back roads dissolve into the dusty

Remains. It's a tourist trapped in a tongue twisted version of love and lust

Just dropping by with poetic lines

Of nothing.

Empty and cold through the passion and fear.

Cursive letters bubble into tear stained ink

But the quill is drenched in the blood of my eyes.  They are drawn and tired

Too far gone to face the weight of my sins. I fall silent. Knees bent in constant adoration. 

Awed and unkempt. 

The wait is too much for the liver and spleen

And so I beg,  pathetic and alone

Dirt and mud have caked upon my skin

trickling down upon me as claw and scratch

Splintered fingers reaching for a surface they shall never find

I am buried here in a grave of your design

With cursive letters that bubble neatly into tear stained ink. Steeped from the blood of my eyes.