I Don’t Remember the Alamo

I need to stop doing this to myself
I need to stop doing this to you

I want to twist off my throat
The bottle opener snapped
Too weak to do its job
From overusing for that

My liver can thank me later
Gratitude for a quick painless death
My heart is a different story
I apologize for drawing it out
Its years of clogged vessels
And clotting for kicks
It's taking its toll
And making me sick with guilt

When my eyelids crack
At the Venetian dawn
The peeled back exposition
Of confusion takes its turn

I need to stop doing this to myself
And thus stop doing it to you

Keep punching me
I don't deserve to wake up
I don't want sympathy
And I don't want to seem
Ungrateful
For my lips can't move mountains
Or do a single thing

I'm sorry I can't remember
You can count the number of times
I've tried to kill myself
On the back of my left hand
But the right is always there
To fight off any harm
Like the friend you don't know how to thank
Or the ringing smoke alarm

It woke me up and hit me
For wrongs I have caused
I can't take back
The things I made you saw

I don't deserve to know
The religion you've become
I don't deserve to find
The divine sum

I'll write out my will
In the blood I'll spill
Trying to make it up to you

And the scars on my wrist
Are added to the list
The only ways I learn
To make it up to you

I need to stop doing this to you
I'm sorry