i want to bleed

A child killed by a bomb, a woman torn or a man savaged.

I shed tears, I wonder if that is part of a ritual to forget and move on.

Is that a lavish fancy to make my ego bigger as a kind compassionate heart?

Then how come am not tormented and broken every moment I live,

Then why cannot I thank myself for one more bomb missing my limbs,

And why not be happy with whatever that is, and keep seeking more?

The worst thing about my brain is I think, and my heart is I bleed,

My brain is bloated with blood making me vague and cryptic.

May be all is my fancy, and my selfish way of coping with this world around.

But I still want to bleed, feel every time a wish in that far corner dies. 

My house is not clean and my dishes are not done,
I seldom cook these days as kitchen makes me blunt.
Am I changing for the better or for worse, who cares.
There used to be a time my friends said “stop being OCD”,
Now if they see me will shout and say buy a vacuum please.
I think of sex instead, a lot, and love and all stupid things,
And think of the day I will change the world with my brown skin.
Am I changing for the better or for worse, who cares,
I just know that now I love it to see things undone.