ring up the devil for a one night stand i'm sure he'll treat you better than i ever could. tell him all your problems like hes your fucking therapist. spout all your 'trauma' like he's a fucking suicide hotline. "just focus on your breathing" says the voice on the other end of the line but its too late you dropped the phone and slit your wrists already
come back from the devil's bed limping but saying you're so good, so fine, but you're crying all the way down the hall.
get your fucking act together and stop walking so slow and get out of my way before i break your legs, make your knees turn inside out, just a deformed automaton, paralyzed from blood clots, when i'm done you'll wished you just stayed with the devil.
YOU ARE READING
Cyanide Daydreams
Poetryyet another dumb edgy poetry book in which i take heavy inspiration from F. T. Willz
