MY Blood. MY Shame.

I follow you
like a lamb
like that meek kid
who wants to be cool
if only he could touch your jacket

I hate lambs and meek kids

How ‘bout you throw me a bone?
nothin’ much…
just a drunken email maybe
tellin’ me you love me
or at least
how you want to be inside me
or that,
from time to time,
you think about me
like right before falling asleep
or when you hear a great song
or when you find a dollar in the street

Whatever.

Either which way,
do me a favor…
slaughter the lamb
murder the meek kid
and paint me in the shame of their blood