(Mid 2009)
Being with you is like tryingto swallow a mouthful of sand.
Too much hard work
and no positive results to speak of.
You're too much work for little in return.
Being with you is like beating my head
against an already bloodied-up brick wall.
There's something so wrong about it
That there's already a warning bled upon it
Yet still I go in for the pain.
And once more, there's no gain.
Speaking with you could be likened
to hearing one of those whistles that only dogs can.
Your earsplitting soft-minded ignorance
makes deafness all the more appealing.
Can you ever hear the vacuousness spewing from between your lips?
Put a cork in it, and swallow.
Being with you is like being eaten away by carnivorous worms
I can't really fault you for taking everything I give,
for consuming every bit of me.
When I am the one who gave it
and asked for nothing in return.
Still, I wish you would spit me out
and lose your appetite for attention.
