Distress

This world is a deceiver
it is thirsty for my blood
the rain is liquid nitrogen
to my soul of a wrong colour

this world is a deceiver
it womits sticky oil on me
stab me kill me
I hate this all to much.

May my face ripping tears be
the salt in your open wounds

…it all is
about to slip
from my hands
I want you
I don't want you
the white of yours
is growing on me
the air is thin
I want to be gone
broken and shattered…