Cleaning Dirty Habits

Fourty six dark days and disposable knights,
I struggle to stay above the surface.
Monotone pain and short lived delights,
I struggle to find a purpose. 

I would cut out my heart and wear it on my sleeve. 
I could bathe in freedom and shamelessness.
I could tear myself open and they could watch me bleed. 
I would battle dirty looks my way and faithlessness. 

I write my stories on the tiles above the bathtub
In permanent marker, but they’ll wash away.
That’s probably a good thing, I could use a scrub, 
Flood out my brain, let my mind stray.

Wretching loneliness haunts and guilts me.
It hurts more after I stare into the eclipse.
Give me oblivion over realization, I plead. 
Yet, I can taste tears from the smile on my lips.

One day I'll gather euphoric serendipity in my hand. 
We are built to love and laugh and cry.
Our bodies are fit to suit our homeland.
Our bodies are built to love and laugh and die.