Maybe I deserve this,
or maybe not...

I don't want to breathe any more.
I don't even want to choke...

I remember how I wanted you,
such a gorgeous boy; so untouchable...

Under those socks is a chest,
not the size you want, but real...

My heart's a blood-stained mess;
a remainder of WW III, at best...

I spit in disgust at your identity.
What you've become...

It seems that whenever I tear myself apart,
you're always there to band-aid my heart...

I fight against the thoughts I think,
while staring at the bathroom sink...

I woke up from a dream today
with an angel by my side...

We each take turns with the cutthroat,
and we pick-pocketed his waistcoat...

We walk down the street limply,
unlike those kids who walk slickly...

Sometimes the way they'd look at me
would tend to drive me crazy...