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shiny objects

Wednesday, June 30, 2004


If you love me, Darling
Take an axe to my head
For I've grown world weary
And would rather be dead;

If you truly care, dearest,
Bash a bat to my skull,
'fore revulsion consumes me
And renders me dull;

A send-off of strychnine,
A hemlock farewell -
Simply kiss me good-evening
And let me to hell;

Or a bullet well nestled
In the flesh of my breast
To both slay and allay me,
Then send me to rest

I'm sickened with struggle,
Beset with life's strife,
And thus thirsty for mercy
At the tip of your knife.

But should you cease mourning,
And adore once more,
I'll return from the grave
And call you a whore.



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