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Plastic Ammunition
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Old Yes... it hurts to thousands
Just to pen this.
Yes... it's tempting
Just to end this...
Complex verbs and vowels
Designed to intertwine
Around a rhyme so foul.
And such the headache
When I find
That the ending always chimes
With a predestined sound.
Ink that seeks discovery
Has been a mouse in maze -
Trying every path prewritten for disaster
Til he finds his way
To exits that were clean layed out for ages
While the audience cues its laughter.
Yes it's painful... torturous
To know your tongue is trail worn
From repeated expeditions
Into lyrical ambition
With a hope to shatter ground
With poet firepower
Only to discover
You hold plastic ammunition.
Shower you with weak precision.
Feel my burn for power.
Taste a sweetest will gone sour.
Here, my writer's block convenes
To clasp my lips
And cloud your eyes from what I mean.
But Jesus... I just wish to come undone and clean
And be the core you sink a ravished tooth beneath.
I wish... I wish... to gleam
Truth beams... tonight.
And in these ways I've sold my lies
To buy some pride... Oh fakest purity...
I am...
A whore... a slave to you...
