angels in america.

and to you it means nothing/ like your hollow words/ a tool/ me your play- mate/ a tonka truck car mat bright coloured roads/ grotesque fool/ a joke/ as i carved red into my arms and sat dripping in the whitewhite wall's and attempted to answer questions to the justdoingmyjob/thesearemystudents/theywillbewatchingmeandnotyou on duty psych nurse/ mary/ as she calls my wounds 'superficial' trying to think up answers to whatthesourceofmypainis/ as i sleep for 18 uninterupted hours because giving to you has exhausted me and i want it back/ feeling like a child/ being picked up and coddled thinking thisispathetic and justmakeitstop/ the you in this not the [you] you but more the proverbial you the all of you/s/ because/ i knew/ i knew/ knowing you ripped off those lines and fed them to me like a malnourished tiger i drank them down/ every letter was hand picked/ hand crafted/ but not for me not for me.