Rolling down a dusty path,
Wind in my hair, sand in my eyes,
Thoughts muddled;
like those of a confused elephant,
Don’t have anywhere to be,
Just wandering without purpose,
Ain’t got no companions,
Other than this dusty road
Even though you sit next to me,
I don’t exactly feel your presence,
I see your jaw go up and down,
But what you say doesn’t make sense to me,
Not that I try to understand,
Not that I really care,
But I see your jaw go up and down,
And I wanna cut your fucking throat off.
You just sit there,
Talking about stuff from a bygone era,
The Beatles, Hitler, Stalin and Jesus,
The things they did,
the things that happened because of them,
I don’t care,
And I wanna rip your fucking throat off.
Now you’ve stopped talking,
Mainly cause you’re unable to,
Not much that one can say,
Without a larynx, pharynx and all of that cockamamie biological stuff.
Point is,
I’m alone now,
There’s a head in the car seat gap,
The seats are all bloodied,
The body’s limp,
And a silent scream is on your face forever.
Now do you realize?
You should have kept your fucking mouth shut.
Dorkify-ing this world, one blog post at a time. 