Crush all my words
and burn them
in any fire you find blazing.
They're wounds.
Contagious and bleeding.
Make sure no gloop
no black, slimy alphabet remain behind
to claim my late existence.
Let the feathery thing of hopflap all the wings it wants,
let it scream all it wants to stay behind.
Because I've left the hope bleeding now.
I've let the hope
burning down to dead ashes.
Dead, cold ashes of my million cigarettes
smoked down to the extreme butt.
Hate me all you want you hope.
Because that's where I want you now.
In the bloody ashes of my wounds.
Black, muddy and rotting.
I think I've bled enough now.
But these keep on fucking bleeding.
The wounds keep on fucking rotting.
Aches and deaths and diseases.
And cigarette.