Reservations for One.

Each word put on this paper
Is blood spared from my floor.
The ink of every pen I use
Like a razor used before.

Poems are my anti-drug
My perfect sip of wine
Theres always been insanity
But never quite like mine.

I like to watch the skin give way
Like a person trapped in hell
When the pain comes washing over me
F u c k, I feel quite swell.

And even though I'm told to stop
I just can't comprehend
The reasons for their worry
That flows without an end.

So go ahead and lock away
Each delicacy I crave
But still you can not keep me
For we've all reserved a grave.