Victim

Oh you, you're gushing red.
Strategic tactic for the light in your eyes to slip into the void of my head.
At times where I am not supposed to feel dead.
Because of this unstoppable thoughts of you in my dread.
Lies, liars, and cigarettes.
Hidden laughs, and smoky sound of blues trumpet.
In the middle of the night, under your bed.
Waiting for the right time to stab you right behind your head.