you clutched me in the red light district i'm surprised you didn't miss it

i've gone and done it again
vacated the inside of my head
so don't look at me
don't try to tell me
"i won't do that to you again"
god said it was one in every ten
from where i'm standing
it seems to be everyone
i put my fist through a mirror today
i don't want to see the vacancies
the cheap neon inconsistencies
but you still put your hand inside of me
thinking it will start me
no, no it won't
i am not here
i haven't been here for awhile
but i should assume you missed that
with your gaping absence
not something you can fix with insistent pleas
i feel like a flea bag
itching and itching
skin red and angry and torn
i will remember shame
i will remember that you're no different
just looking for an opening
with a line cut and grafted like bone
my body rejects it
because that line isn't your own