The way I bleed is excessive Progressive and purposeful All over the floor and furniture, Another mess left in my wake I've been displaced by the flow Grey hound down the East Coast. Any trace of my identity A score of worm like tallies Evidence from which I've leaked Spectacularly. There is nothing else, I am defined by the holes in my teeth, The blood that has left my body All the ugliness incarnate. Every verse I've ever written Is a suicide note Dressed up as a love poem. Desperate to be known More than just patches Of ripped out hair Or cigarette burns. I feel partial from the loss Unwhole, unholy. No purpose to direct me. Nobody knows the gravity How heavy it weighs When I say hopeless The quietness in my soul The silent rage driving These filthy habits Seeking a fullness I haven't known in years.