I'm Far too Sensible for my Own Good

Because what I really want to do is
grab that starcaster and shatter its melodies
into a thousand pieces
watch them bounce and burn as shrapnel ignites
like entering the atmosphere

I want to punch through the drywall and
hope that it leaves me bruised and bloody
to feel the rush of pain that I feel inside
to bleed from my fingers
like they were tendrils of my broken heart
and my television screen is just ****ing asking for it

I hate you, God
because this life you've given me has turned
so sour, like milk left out too long
I hate you even though it was me
it was me
it was me, I cry
I'm the one that left it there, on the counter
to rot and decay like
Oh God, I didn't mean that
not a single word
I want to talk to someone, I just want to be heard

I want to cry, but
this milk hasn't even spilled

**** this life, this work towards nothingness
The lady who walked away, content,
a new digital camera and replacement plan in tow
There are no words to match the curses of my soul
and I can't remember
have I used the images of brokenness and blood?
I have? Then there's no recourse for you but to
label me
call me names that sting not because they hurt
but because you're not listening
you're not paying attention to the woes of my heart
oh my heart
I've used that too?
I'd ask you but I'm not sure that you'd know
what I should do

I'm far too sensible for my own good