Wipe My Hands Clean

as I step in the direction of

my resurrection

I see upon thee

the door of once I see

with that Mercedes-Benz at front

silver and pretty

a pity

with a sight I see

if I so call that memory

with a kitchen island white with black dots

words spoken out who took the shots

inside that so called home

between you and I

am I that type of guy or girl

with an eye that looks that tends to blur and twirl

stepped one step closer

of what rooms there were

were there two or three

who would’ve known

I don’t care enough to know

all I know is that there should be a body

maybe my body with handcuffs on the floor

that took the score

or a body with no prints

with blood

and powder

what could be her or me or some kinda whore

is all I see

is this the end of me

is this what dreams and reality tend to be

seeing what I see

i guess ill just wipe my hands clean

I guess I’ll just wipe my hands clean

thinking of way I myself

that I can feel the water

from the kitchen sink

you can’t spell laughter without slaughter