The Door

If you are silent enough you might hear my thoughts

They will pick at you until your ears start bleeding

Because I'm constantly aching to have a place of meaning

If you stopped for a second to look at me as a whole

And not a goal

You will see more than wet cheeks and aggressive looks

But it’s rare to find a man that wants to give more than two fuck’s

I've turned myself outwards to become inward

And in the process I just got injured

I guess romance has always been dead

There’s never been any love or appreciation for giving head

And yet I ask myself, so why am I once again laid in his bed?

I find myself clinging onto fragments of damaged affection

Finding comfort in between my legs and a wet erection

It’s easier to digest in liquid form rather than rejection

Gone are the days ending with questions and searching for something more

Now all that remains is the after taste of a whore

And no you won’t be sleeping over anymore

Because the last thing I want to hear is you fucking snore

So take your heavy breathing and bull shit sentences

And there’s the door.