A slave, to my own humanity.

A slave, to the chemistry.

A slave, to my biology.

A slave, to ideology.

Fuck all my friends.

I’ve got an itch that needs scratching.

Fuck all my friends.

I need to find satisfaction.

Where is the ending to this writhing? If I beg will you make this shaking cease?

I need you to dig your nails into my skin, the urgency of the matter is very pressing.

I need some time to waste, I need a space that is not mine to, dominate.

I need some action, something taboo sounds so sweet.

I’ll play the patient. You can be my doctor.

You can slide your stethoscope close to my breast. Tell me if the heartless have a pulse.

Fuck all my friends.

I’ve got a womb that needs to be filled until it is fruitful.

Fuck all my friends.

I need to find disillusionment in the rawness in which I see you.

Where is the ending to this writhing? If I beg will you make this shaking cease?

I need an end to this mundane cyclic affair.

Give it to me.

Where the fuck are my friends?

Everything is such a bore.

Except for these chemicals pulsing their way through my veins.

Give it to me.