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They Flow Too Easily
I've got easy veins
For this.
Pretty purple,
Fat and flowing
For all to see.
That's why they ask me
All the tough questions.
Mostly about why
I sold my soul
To those sad syringes
And lost a love
For the finite finality
Of my soon to be
Future.
But answers
I shall not give
Nor reasons will be sought.
All the alliteration
That Webster’s has to offer
Won't wake me
From my deadly repose.
I shall seek no ends,
Ease no pain.
My arms will scar.
This brain
Will misfire.
I'll forget to bathe
And my teeth will ache.
Dreams will disappear
Among the ruined
Memories of beauty
And the parasites
On my heart
Will pump poison
Through my veins
That flow to easy
For my own good.
