This is a mind has been tainted and corrupt.
Now I'm spilling ink all over letters that were to vague to send.
And finding reason to make more of a mess of the situation .
These words I am playing out in this one man act,
are going to come back and haunt my vocabulary,
itís a given fact that every inch of my brain is,
covered by the last few words that fell from your mouth,
and apparently will always be.
This a final release of a drowning voice,
but all the noise is gone.
It has been replaced by dollar pens and even cheaper paper,
I guess in the end,
Thatís all hope is worth.
Donít you think this is depressing,
Iíve got dark lines crawling up my arms,
making there way to that big red pump in my chest,
I guess once again it comes down to the heart of the matter.
Maybe puns are to clever for this kind of thing,
maybe I am thinking to far into it.
All I really care about rite now,
is finding someone worth while to die with,
to hold hands until my toxic blood reaches itís destiny,
mom always told me not to draw on my arms.
This is the final words of a drying pen,
the lines are faint, but readable.
The paper is starting to run out,
so Iíll make it quick.
Iím dying, and have been for too long.