"You Fucking Idiot," cries the Red Robed
Lizard with the Ginsu Fingers
As you get carried away at the table
And all your friends look down,
uncomfortable.
"Will you ever be happy?" a croak through
thin lips and serrated teeth.
A face flat like a plate, wide like a table
"Maybe when you ruin everything for everyone,"
it concludes.
And a chorus from the chains
Wrapped around your wrists,
The ones held by old ghosts,
"Can you ever shut the fuck up?"
And, worst of all, the whisper.
The needlebug, razor-slim and hissing
In your ear, "You know, this is all your fault,"
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