Distress

This world is a deceiver 
it is thirsty for my blood 
the rain is liquid nitrogen 
to my soul of a wrong colour 

this world is a deceiver 
it womits sticky oil on me 
stab me kill me 
I hate this all to much. 

May my face ripping tears be 
the salt in your open wounds 

…it all is 
about to slip 
from my hands 
I want you 
I don't want you 
the white of yours 
is growing on me 
the air is thin 
I want to be gone 
broken and shattered…