apologizing for the mess
i’ve always pictured
my death as a rainy
night at home alone
beethoven on the
old stereo
the ninth symphony
on repeat
bottles on the floor
a shotgun in the corner
and i would be in
the bathroom, crying
the only thing in my head
would be my father calling
me a failure when i was
seven years old
and how i never could
prove him wrong
i’d finally write the
perfect goodbye
apologizing for the mess
and wondering why i was
never good enough for
anyone to love
and somewhere around
the ode to joy
my brains are on the walls
slowly trickling down
like tears
Horror Sleaze Trash 