Slow, painful, agonising shit
every last moment, every last bit
Barley concious now i tourniquet my disaster
hours pass as thick clotting blood sets like plaster
that rotten smell filling the air
mouldy putrid and full of despair
Broken bones ground to a dust
nothing to keep me company but lingering must
its cold in here
damp and wet
my plaster blood will never set
my eyes are blind
my limbs are frail
but most depressing of all
no one can hear me wail.
I never fucking wanted to go bowling in the first place.
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