I can't sleep
and it's all your fault.
I'm thinking about you
With your hands on her hips,
Her arms 'round your neck
And it's fucking making me sick.

Every single moment
of the fake-romantic circles
that you shared with her.
Why not me, you compulsive liar?

You make me feel icky.
Disgusting like rotten garbage
That you're too tired to take out.
So you leave me decaying on the kitchen floor
Just like the trash that I really am.

What are you thinking right now?
What's going on in your head
As I lie crying here in front of you?
You put the blame on me
For not being too "specific."
But darling, love's instructions
Are only unwritten rules.
Basic instinct that if you want me,
You must follow.

But instead
You make me feel icky,
Like the garbage I really am.

 
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