Post by Laura on Sept 3, 2005 16:48:22 GMT -6
I am going to start rating my poetry:
Rated R
contains sexual subject matter, coarse language, and violence.
"You've Been Inside Her"
how can her hands fit to yours?
I'm bleeding your blood
- the blood of our unborn child -
when it died, I died
and you smiled
[ somehow ]
yeah f**k you
and how does she taste
. . .
after me?
oh you bloody, bloody battered jerkoff
jacking off to feel the feeling again
I will not cave in to your sorries
spilling from your mouth like lava beans
and your shirt is still dirty with her perfume
tell her [ from me ] she buys it cheap
cheaps for cheap wh**es
and don't tell me I'm angry
[ I f**king know I'm angry ]
I'm only ripping off my clothes
to see if my skin comes with it
and I will walk around bare
to see if my skeleton falls out
and when it does
I hope my ghost finds you
and how does she [ f**king ] taste
after me?
do her lips taste of raspberry
honey
do the insides of her legs make you sweat
like mine do?
don't touch my face to wipe my tears
these tears are not for you
they aren't for me but for our baby
you let her go along with me
and I wasn't strong enough to keep her
when my feet break down
and my body can't hold itself
I will find her too
whether it's inside the floorboards
or creeping the sewer pipes
the blood will leave a scent
and I will follow it until I breathe your bulls**t in
and I will suck it all up
and spit it back at you
hope you drown
and yeah, f**k you
all these beatings I've taken
I've written down
and I will tear each and every page from that journal
and burn them to ashes
when they're all black crystals
these chains will break
how do her hands fit yours?
now I don't care [ anymore ]
when you f**k her and come on home tonight
I won't be there pacing under fluorescent lights
then you can ask yourself
how does she taste
after me?
Rated R
contains sexual subject matter, coarse language, and violence.
"You've Been Inside Her"
how can her hands fit to yours?
I'm bleeding your blood
- the blood of our unborn child -
when it died, I died
and you smiled
[ somehow ]
yeah f**k you
and how does she taste
. . .
after me?
oh you bloody, bloody battered jerkoff
jacking off to feel the feeling again
I will not cave in to your sorries
spilling from your mouth like lava beans
and your shirt is still dirty with her perfume
tell her [ from me ] she buys it cheap
cheaps for cheap wh**es
and don't tell me I'm angry
[ I f**king know I'm angry ]
I'm only ripping off my clothes
to see if my skin comes with it
and I will walk around bare
to see if my skeleton falls out
and when it does
I hope my ghost finds you
and how does she [ f**king ] taste
after me?
do her lips taste of raspberry
honey
do the insides of her legs make you sweat
like mine do?
don't touch my face to wipe my tears
these tears are not for you
they aren't for me but for our baby
you let her go along with me
and I wasn't strong enough to keep her
when my feet break down
and my body can't hold itself
I will find her too
whether it's inside the floorboards
or creeping the sewer pipes
the blood will leave a scent
and I will follow it until I breathe your bulls**t in
and I will suck it all up
and spit it back at you
hope you drown
and yeah, f**k you
all these beatings I've taken
I've written down
and I will tear each and every page from that journal
and burn them to ashes
when they're all black crystals
these chains will break
how do her hands fit yours?
now I don't care [ anymore ]
when you f**k her and come on home tonight
I won't be there pacing under fluorescent lights
then you can ask yourself
how does she taste
after me?