Flesh

Some days my flesh will beg for your bones.

So i'll have to break mine,

throw one at a time

pretending they are pieces of bread 

and you'll follow them

until you get to me.

The real question is how long is going to take for me

to realize

i'm only being follow by all the things I hate.

Some days i'll have to pull all my sinews out

form a rope so long it'll cross the whole fucking world,

get to you,

show the mess you've made of me,

only to hear a scream coming out of your mouth.

But my love,

this is all your fault. 

You memory is so deep inside me, 

                                                     i'm only trying to get it out.