I'm dead and I blame You

For wasted liquorice days and nights spent
with legs sprawled and black expressions.

Offer me cream filled eclair and bespeak will I,
Yet, provide compassion and i will bleed like
pricked blue steak into crisp green salad.

Coerced hostility to toughen my edges
(rub lakes of salt into fresh gashes)
and I become another nothing storm.

I have disregarded tears since you removed my eyes.