Fill my hands with concrete, bury them in lead. Contort my face, I know the feel of the breaking as I’ve bled. I’ve known the pain of a strong mans’ fists, I’ve learned full well to wait. I find an angel, she is weeping, my waiting turns to rage. Let them now see what I am. Let them all now beg.
Scars I’ve earned in my own turn glow pink in this slim light. The strength I gain each time I’m slain from my pride comes back to me bright. Let what is stretching beneath my skin flex full to quench my desire. My angel has had pain enough, I would step in now, let her retire. Show me, what man, sadistically lean would want to peddle his wares near me? Let me a moment at his throat to bring the promised bruises to make him choke. I want to open my scars for him. I want his vision to choke in blood. I want his eyes to be full of mud caked by dirt and anger I have shed. I want to slowly make him dead. But not yet.
Send to me a man who laughs in the face of sins now past. My hands know well how blood is spilled. My mind knows some just must be killed. My rage knows not the word called “bounds”. I want to hang my hands around a throat so clever it never got caught, not daring to guess it’s victim would be sought in the heart of a true man. I want to kill him for you. I want my blood to mix with his blood as our blood runs in pain and is he crying? Sorry motherfucker! That’s just the just feel of shit dieing!