Your Face Is A Rape Scene

That whisper, your lovely curling razor, mistakenly wound

around my tongue to squeeze some fucking truth

from that wicked obsession, your obsession, where I can

pass by. They do that when you're dead alive. I

could count stars, and you counted screams, so if you

would please just hand me my ticket, I will go and

join the ground.

It was where I was in the first place.