What You Want

Out of yourself, drunk, slumbered, high. Your veins running full of a potent substances unknown as of now, since being mixed with all these other non medicinal things. You say you want so much more than what I can give you , being willing to try anything except help, me being what you need, Fighting through the pain of abuse you neglect yourself but moreover you forget yourself, your existence in my eye and your sight in your own. You become unbearable through your inability to stay under the influence of me and who I expect you to be, but I allow it. I like you better raw, beaten, bruised and under my pressure of me telling you to get high for this, you find pleasure in being my test tube and my manikin, free to move around, going above and beyond my imagination with you because you mentally are gone. I take the stuff once more dissolve it in water, heat it, and inject it into you. You die again, I manipulate you consistently, cutting, scraping, pounding, you oblivious to the damage I am causing inside and out of your now fleshy body. Clothes bloody, arms oozy, eyes puffy, you sit waiting for the next time I might let you hit. Selfishly I give you all the drugs I love the way they make you act, your mental state off topic, and your words drug through mud, filthy, your personality relaxed and unrealistically careless. That's you off your sanity and in it. Highly, overly prepared to jump off the buildings we so highly sit upon, skyscrapers, cliffhanging over what was once the twin towers. You committed to this lifestyle with me, you being partially unable to speak which leaves me doing all the talking. Lungs filled with lethal smoke from the kush we confess with our lips. Hypocritically saying our prayers before we eat, then we right back at like with the beat.