Give You Up

Slow motion suicide has a certain appeal,

Measured destruction with a delicate feel.

I hear them rattling at my window panes,

Screaming for my blood in the shimmering rain.

Holes in my chest are counting down time,

Aches in my body and the raping of my mind.

Day terrors chastise all my trembling flesh,

Meat on a stick, I’m just a spluttering mess.

(I can give you up at any time but I need you here,

I can't walk this line tonight.

I can give you up at any time, but this is much too fun

And the damage has been done, already.)

25/03/11