Sweet cuts and warm moans

Where, oh where,
has all the hatred gone?
And where is all the
spit and blood?

How many times have you
licked your lips,
and tasted the bile
from within your gut?

When there was pain,
you smiled more often.
When there was torture,
you had more fun.

Do you remember all
the good places to cut?
So many ways to bleed out,
and just fade away?

Sweet cuts, and warm moans,
for the walks in the dark.
Hell and Limbo in your mirror,
like the memory of a happy death.

Dirt roads and bloody footsteps,
with dust getting into the scabs.
No time for the healing,
just time for the bleeding.