An alternative way of writing

It might be the glimpse of your draining in blood
Which made me laugh and stare
But who should care...
but all?

It should be the chair, on wheels I'd think
That's the bane or reject in society
That bliss, Pure fire I quench
but all?

Life is nothing but a spark in ones eye
But feel free, to be against purpose sick fuck
As ignorance is the bliss of the weak
Playing the mass, in disgust

Try me, show me what you're made off
Please help me, I'm a bitch
For real you keep the fire breathing
I quenched so well, at least
I thought... thought well

Now you're telling me
At last, I witness
No meaning but yours
In suicidal fatness
Your eyes float

Feel the air surrounding
As the most lovable is sick
It's all around
For al I'd care
You're burnt along
In the shadow of dying

There are times that I think
The idiot is me
Feeling all pissed
'Cause of one song too much

With an ache in my ass
I witness at last
That being this
Supports nothing but crap
but all?...