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Hey, knuckle-nicks |
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I'll tell you: |
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It's helping |
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I'll tell you: |
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You're doing the right thing |
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I can see you're used |
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And I don't know where you've been |
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But I do know past failures still haunt you |
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Thoughtless slow remarks you later regret |
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It's hard to own up and take the blame |
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For being a nervous gibbering wreck |
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So go on be a careless fucking onlooker |
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So you can sit and not-think about pain |
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I know about gasping attacks and mirror-blood |
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I know about shitbags and shame |
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I know a fuckload more than you realise |
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A fuck of a lot more than you think |
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I know why you can take a kiss |
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But not a bone-count hug |
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I know you bite your fat banana fingernails |
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And I know why you'd need to shave |
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I know you're a slow fussy pathetic eater |
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And I know you don't sleep much |
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But I'll still tell you: |
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It's helping |
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And I'll still tell you: |
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You're doing the right thing |
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Question: did you ever hurt yourself to make somebody sorry? |
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How often do you pretend to be sick? |
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You ever wanted something very much but never told anybody about it? |
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Are you such a slug you can't live without a fucking sundae? |
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You ever made a bit too much fuss over your cuts? |
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Yes, the cutting will be quite dramatic |
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If you get the crisscross slit right |
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And show an exposed piece of bone |
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Ready for harvest |
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And in a few seconds' time: |
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In a drop of anal red the poison |
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And your totally disgusting diseased unkempt disgusting excuse of a body |
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Continues to react |
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Till mere days after the cutting |
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The cancer says well hello |
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In between fairground muscle twitches |
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And clearly white scaly shit |
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Tinkerboy says burnt it out |
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The little cunt doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about |
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And just weeks after the cutting |
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You really don't know |
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How well can you imagine |
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How soon cheap tears are forgotten |
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Because there's no wasted kleenex or sympathy |
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Nobody would give a fucking toss |
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For a quasi-glamour of your symptoms |
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For your Russell's sign |
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And for your atrocious sleepless lucidity |
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Because what if they were provoked? |
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It's prefectness and it's all there |
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No more pointless trawling through self-helped books for triggering examples |
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No more daytime trash or drunken wisdom |
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At first it seems not to be working |
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Til you get that imitation of danger |
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That means you can no longer convince yourself it's not working |
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More and more and more |
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So right now would be a good time for blackmail |
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Who have you ever tried to make guilty? |
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Have you ever told on anyone? |
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What somebody has told you not to tell |
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My question: I said have you ever told on anyone? |
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Yet I'll tell you: |
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It's helping |
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And I'll tell you: |
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You're doing the right thing |
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More and more you wonder if anyone really gives a fuck |
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Do you sometimes feel that: |
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You talk too much |
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You don't listen enough |
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Do you admit to letting others push you around? |
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Who's pushing you around now? |
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Who's hitting on you now? |
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Who's the pervert hitting on you now, kuckle-nicks? |
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Has he successfully perverted an ethic? |
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Has he destroyed a doll body? |
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I'll show you what's it like not to have hands |
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And I'll show you how to hold on tight |
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I'll show you how to piss on your own bedclothes |
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And sit in a closet |
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You'll learn to sweat while unconscious |
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And I'll show you the electric stick |
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You'll learn about the kitty-cut |
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Before the privilege of seeing your own blood |
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I'll let you suck brown-brown and clairil |
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So you know how papa's so brave |
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I'll show you the wide-awake nightmare |
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And now you can buy some fucking fear |
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So new question: can you: |
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Spot a person who's like me? |
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Can you: |
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Imagine a difference between their body and yours? |
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Can you: |
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Imagine a person who looks like me? |
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Could you: |
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Spot a person who looks unlike you? |
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Can you: |
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Spot a person who's how you want to be? |
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Can you: |
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Imagine a person who you'd never want to be? |
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Transferring people is a fucking degrading thing to do to them |
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And one day the you'll understand that |
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One day the you'll understand that: |
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Cut hands has the solution |
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We'll feed you to every hungry bird |
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We'll feed you to every starving animal |
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And we'll let them eat fat till they're full |
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And will let them drink blood till they're drunk |
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As I tell you: |
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It's helping |
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While I tell you: |
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You're doing the right thing |
