Grey matter makes the stories seem true.
Only to me and not to you.
Until I sort through the trails unmarked.
You'd be lucky to find a wounded shark.
They must keep moving or they die.
Pierce the vein in my upper thigh.
Let the blood trail take you down.
To the place where the truth can be found.
A pool of blood tells no lies.
I can bake my stories in a series of pies.
Then you could eat my being whole.
Taste the bile in my bowl.
I cannot hide what you seek.
My sweat runs out and it is bleak.
It is more than a rancid smell.
It is the most powerful spell.
If you choose to follow me now.
I can take my one last bow.
You and I are more than this.
I am frightened of your bliss.
In the tangled mess of being.
You found love was always fleeting.
I found that if I say the worst.
You would still drink it, your needy thirst.
No matter what I have to say.
You won't live another day.