I need to tell you
That this life
Isn’t what you think
It’s not what you’ve been told

This body is no more than a complex
Jail cell
and my mind is nothing more
than a labyrinth made to
Distract me and burn time like
Blood spilling from my wrists
Drying in the sun like dust
Beneath me

I need to tell you
That this life
Isn’t what you think
It’s not what you’ve been told

These hands are practiced tools
Weapons that have been trained
To quickly choke the life from you
Slap you hard, awaken you
And send you reeling

This heart has been tempered
by the sharp point of many blades
That have pierced it
And run it through
This heart has been set ablaze
In a single moment and then
Extinguished completely in the next
Disposed of unshamed facedly
and forgotten
Like packaging around some product
That you had wished
Wholeheartedly
That you hadn’t spent money on.

My life equates to a refund
A merchandise return
A scratched off to-do list upon buck slip
Careless and forgotten








From: Observations of a Dead Man (2007)