In a shell of I nut. Innuendo.

There’s something about,
slicing my finger open,
that makes me smile.
Because I know, the sympathy will
overtake the pain of the open wound.

And I really shouldn’t tell you that,
but I don’t care.

I should also tell you,
I loved holding you in my arms.
And watching you sleep.
In. My. Arms.

I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true.

Today.

I found that my best hobby
is lying to the check out lady.
Because I will never see her again.
And she doesn’t care what I say.
Because in the next hour and a half,
she is focused on forgetting everything she has learned.

Why not make myself sound normal?

Candles will not stay lit when the wind blows,
which is just poetic way to say
life goes on without you.
It’s a sad thing to think  about.
And I’ve been thinking.

When I say I love you,
It’s really just an innuendo
I want to fuck your brains out.
and I want you to remember me,
the next time you are getting your brains fucked out.

I hope you forget I said that.

I know this is choppy, and not even art.
I don’t expect you to like it.
But I expect you to learn about me.
(If you read this all).

Oh, and by the way,
I love you. [wink.--
wink]