I’m making out with the memory of you, I want to hit you in the face, I want to feel your blood pulsating through my fingers.
 I need you to leave me coughing up blood.
 I need you to leave me with my rib cage forced open, with my heart out to display for a laughing stock like the rest of me already is.
And when you see what’s become of me, my mangled skeletal corpse, I hope you smile, I hope you laugh. Because it’ll the the goddamn prettiest sound the world has ever heard.








