Disgust and Broken Egg Shells

Maybe someone should have told you, you were so worked up, and through your tears they should have seen the signs.  Though this scene ended with me dead in a coffin, you shouldn't have had to suffer like you did.  There is an open invitation to horror shows in the Sunday edition, and you couldn't bear not too go.  Scared out of your wits, you battered down the bathroom doors, each stall was painted with vulgarity.  And it screamed its hoarse voice at you, and you couldn't take it.  I tried my best to shelter you from the storm, but the lightning bolts fell in to disarray.
Don't forget it.
Maybe you can take the time to forget it all, but I won't, I threw myself into the chopper, placed my neck in the guillotine, and took my toll as i threw myself down your stairwell on a cold frosted December night.  A ghastly face found me, and told me of your sins, and you were crying on the other line, until there was no one left but me, after all your parents told you to grow up, move on, and get out.  
Can't you see me standing in shattered glass.
A pistol whipped station was where I found myself out bleeding out into the egg whites because I couldn't find the energy to scramble them on time.  No one wanted to help you but me, and as I laid dying on my own i couldn't find the truth anymore.  Maybe you should have located your conscience, and told it to remove, because all your unconcious desire should never have bottled up inside itself.  People find a fault in my findings, but I say why.  
Sure it hurt, but if you weren't happy why stand here by my side, we took our stupid vows, and for what, there is one life we lead.  Down the sidewalk.  Down the sidewalk.  Down the bridged path.
God forgive this, forgive himself, damned idealist.
The rage was built up inside me, it was boiling out, and when I finally calmed down, I saw your fear on the mirror, fogged up from my heated bath.
You took off your ring, I bitched and complained, and then I took off mine.  
The horror house of dying lovers, it shall pass, though i never want to return to the meat grinder.