I'll Always Love You...
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Anxiety's obsession dotes upon my complex, yet simplistic decision,
Dissection of emotions with a seringe of homegrown euphemism...
Sighing and sliding in the aftermath of the slick sign of the slaughter,
Unaware of the benign effect this may have on my unborn daughter.
Blurred eyes embrace the disgrace etched into my face from my family,
A race from the kitchen to the door from my red faced father's insanity.
...Left alone to brave the doorsteps of my friends as I was forgotten,
A loss of love, life and replaced with disgust and anger's oxygen.
Head in my hands tears dried the drought that had ravished my visage,
Self concious of my unbearable presence to those who obsess over image.
Living out of a black plastic bag and entertaining myself with old magazines,
A gleam of hope is in the form of reflections from passer's pennies.
My music I hear you ask? I compose my own melodies without instruments,
Crying bitterly differently each time I create my symphony of accidents.
Oh the amount of times I've considered death, but I must fight on,
Inverted sleeping, vomitting as often as I can... This is my song.
An oblong section of carpet is my cushion to relax on in a daze,
Yet it's always the same, it's always "just one of those fuckin' days"
Was on the news once in the background bleeding and crying for money,
The reporter noticed the shreaks and told the studio I was a junkie...
Oblivious of the bulge of life expanding under my tatters of rags,
I'm pregnant and all I can think of is waving the white flag...
Giving birth in the nearest hospital I could find with fake details,
Struck looks hazarded across the sterile reflective floor pale...
Slumped in a wheelchair, fading in and out of awareness,
Extreme deprivation and past drug use is my gift for my heiress.
Looking up in a fleeting moment of sobriety I saw my old best friend,
She stood and walked around the rooms bend leaving me to meet the end.
Screaming echoed around the room and back to my face slapping me,
Punishment for my negligence and lack of parental activity...
She escaped my dank dark existence and met the light,
Cringing at the smell, I swear she gagged at my plight.
Sitting bleeding and distraught I waited for the doctor,
His face was grim as he held a flipchart taken from the door.
She was disabled, and I was dying, a nice end to my work do you agree?
Fake insurance details flagged on the computers and an end to my passivity.
Standing, ripping the life support monitors from my body,
Singing a corrupted song of anger and invigorated sodomy.
"I WILL ALWAYS FUCKING HATE YOU" I cried to the doctor,
Thrusting a tray across his face and crawling forward...
Rounding the white coridoors painting them dirty red, laughing,
Peering errily into different rooms searching and distracting.
A small crowd behind me stalking my shaking lifeforce carefully,
Erratically writing "I'LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU" in blood merrily.
Finding the room and removing the tubes from her tiny structure,
Shaking her violently until she's gone to a better mother...
Writing the message in blood across her chest and falling to the floor,
Doctors and security sprinting shouting through the door..
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Expecting something different?
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Lying in my own pool of life I shed a tear for my daughter,
She'll live on forever without pain and will only have laughter.
Smiling as my heart stopped, my throat choking and spluttering,
The pain seeping across the floor forming an infinite ring...
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A tiny laugh echoed from the fluffy clouds in the distance,
Just for that one instant... Death meant the fulfillment of existence.
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"I'll always love you..."
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