How the World Should Work

Every thought I think of, every theory I throw down is tight

Never needing nothing now, no noose around my neck at night

Put out paper pad and pen, place em and pull down the light

 

That’s when it starts

That’s when it begins

I think about my life in parts and think about all of my sins

 

Tear the words through tightened throat, these tears I think they titillate

Streaming south they start to stop, but some still stay and stimulate

Help me heal and help my heart, help me love and help me hate

 

Then it all stops

And I pause for a breath

I see the puddled teardrops, then I think about her death

 

Fueling all this fire and the fucking fear I feel from Him

Wonder whether we all rise or whether there’s no soul within

Answers are all that I ask, answer I won’t ask again

 

I want it to end

These words, they’re all real

They’re not to make another friend, I care not how they make you feel

 

These thoughts they tear me thread from thread, but help me think things through and straight

Writing wraps my wounds with words when whiskey won’t and wine won’t wait

Owning every ounce of me, an outlet I obliterate

 

This craft is all I have in life. I play with words; alliterate.