Words of a Cynic

im the sick masochist
who carries the disease
of a bitchy feminist that
likes to watch you bleed
even my psychiatrist fuels
my twisted desired needs
always claiming im a pessimist
in a form of dying greed

if that's the case come
clime inside my head
maybe then we can trace
the source of all my dread
touch the face who watches
me drown down all my meds
and love the sweet embrace
that lured me as i bled

you can view all of this by piercing
through my charcoal stained eyes
its mostly bliss for me inside
all my lovely woven lies
it provides a kiss for me as
all my pretty roses die
and i never again miss all the
precious secrets tainted darkness sighs

i tasted truth that will descend
beyond the blood of my stained blasphemy
no longer do i pretend im not
truley wretched with intellectual integrity
theres no reason for me to amend
because im naturaly a morbid queen
with no need to defend my reasonable
human instinct for selfish gluttony

i hate everything with laughter
through my view inside the clinic
you would to after dreaming alluring
laden fantasies amid the lips of a cynic