Erraticness

I'd Like To Stab You

Whenever I feel so bored, I play with my weapons.
I spin my pocket knife on both of my hands,
Wondering... if this l'appel du vide comes true...
Would it fly on your throat and gush out blood like lava flowing through?

Your words saying untrue issues that are making sense with an irrelevant brain is making me snicker.
I feel like this lighter should set out the rumors, lies and the gossips you clandestinely smother,
You should consider shutting your mouth before this flickering fire goes in there to burn your toxic throat into ashes—
Yonder all the girls you've been gossiping with; do you guys think you're pretty with batting your judgemental asses?

Roll your eyes again and prop your dark elbows on the arm chair's table.
I grit up my cutter—thinking of bawling your eyes out and cutting it to preamble.
Ruling over others is what you want because you feel so sophisticated,
Regardless of that... you should stop running for a position 'cause you're never nominated.

I've been growing kinda tired with all these visualizing on how to slash you using my weapons,
I wanted to really see how would all these could rip out your skin to flesh until the blood spawns.
I'll be there to make you let me feel the bloodlust while imagining the torture ways that's far from few—
I'm here behind your seat in class and, hey, I need you to know... I'd like to stab you.