Dance to my incisions

I'm on the kitchen floor, playing dead.
Right finger pointed to my head, cant get that image out of my mind.
Fake blood is pouring from my ear, trickles to my mouth and disappears, it taste like coke cans (aluminum) cutting up my lips.

Sometimes i wish this world would swallow me whole, spit me up again minus one perfectly good soul.

And every hour taste's like shit, everything you want its comes with it, i cant feel my legs down there anymore.
Anything you wish it well come true, accept you pay for it, you know you do,
That's all i hear in both my severed ear's.
I feel like everything that's in front of me, from violence to poetry is keeping my voice hostage.

I taste our last kiss and i hit the floor,
I die here yearning begging for more i love your sweet divine.