deepundergroundpoetry.com
Only a Thrill
Sometimes I miss
The stinging of a blade
Running across my aching skin
Sometimes I crave
Infiltrating of nicotine smoke
Wisping, curling as I draw it in
Sometimes I hate
My life, myself, everything
Every tiny thing amiss with me
Sometimes I’m high
Off the thrill of being trouble
The way my heart thumps excitedly
I fondle my old knife
Gazing at its shiny steel
Lovingly, longingly
I stare at the little boxes
Of cigarettes behind counters;
Camel Crush calls out to me
I raise a middle finger
To my mirror and my mind,
And to every fucked up thing.
I plot devious schemes;
I sometimes act on impluse.
Whatever makes my heart sing
“Everything that kills me makes me feel alive”
*Quotation from OneRepublic's "Counting Stars"
The stinging of a blade
Running across my aching skin
Sometimes I crave
Infiltrating of nicotine smoke
Wisping, curling as I draw it in
Sometimes I hate
My life, myself, everything
Every tiny thing amiss with me
Sometimes I’m high
Off the thrill of being trouble
The way my heart thumps excitedly
I fondle my old knife
Gazing at its shiny steel
Lovingly, longingly
I stare at the little boxes
Of cigarettes behind counters;
Camel Crush calls out to me
I raise a middle finger
To my mirror and my mind,
And to every fucked up thing.
I plot devious schemes;
I sometimes act on impluse.
Whatever makes my heart sing
“Everything that kills me makes me feel alive”
*Quotation from OneRepublic's "Counting Stars"
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