Breath-For-Fucking-Breath

I’m a fuckin pariah. So cold to the touch, you might lose fingers.
My heart seethes HATE, and if you get too close, PAIN is all that lingers.
I have REAL regret. No more, no less.
Paranoia keeps me out of touch, but I keep it close to my chest.
I can count my true friends, on one hand, if need be.
But I’ve lost touch with those “friends”, un-fuckin-fortunately.
It wasn’t by any fault of theirs; I’m a god damned prick.
My living is undecided; their decision had to be quick.
Two shots in the dark, and I could be free.
60 MG of HERION, keep it syrupy.
Profane in my sickness, I thrust upon a need for understanding or truth.
Bend the knee to the god of my choosing, and I chose to choose YOU.
Shunned I was, or at the very least, IGNORED.
So it’s killers I find abreast. While your throat finds the cord.
But if the cord finds your throat, then it must mean your death.
And while your death makes me happy, we fight TOGETHER, breath-for-fucking-BREATH.
I cannot get rid of you, despite my futile efforts  your plague is mine still.
I would give up forever, if I could have 5 minutes alone with you-FOR REAL.
Losing it all doesn’t mean I have nothing. I still have that GLOCK appeal.
Calculated in my attempts, with .45 gauge STEEL.
“I am the one kept in silence, until evil arise.
I am the one raised by violence; deeply dark and despised.
There’s no chance for salvation, with suicide on your hands,
This is the true retaliation. Enduring more than I can stand.
Real eyes, REALIZE, Real Lies. I see through your facade.
Man created a sickness, and I created a GOD.”
My manifesto, a prophecy in the making.
Your world is a target, and on my list for the taking.
When there is nothing left, the man with nothing is GOD.
I have never had anything, and I find this notion odd.
For I am one for tangible things. Give me proof or go fuck yourself.
I care not for faith, or your perception of my mental health.
I’m fucked up, I know, and I don’t fucking care if you’re bothered by it.
ACCEPT THIS: Jesus was a fag, your god isn’t real, and you can’t deny it.
I’m drunk, am a drunk, will be A DRUNK. So what, if it’s real?
I am done with this shit. Now tell me how you feel.
UNDERgROUND