i’m really here
I am mouth-dripping
more bat-shit than you
she’s ashy grey split ends
bearing long acrylic fingernails
that slide and tick along the tampered glass
it’s bare flesh
all burnt up
your pieces too jagged
for mind spinning sobriety
the hard shards blooming with flame
it’s your amputated leg
a terminal diagnosis
the medical nightmare
that perches on your chest
acrylic nails break the skin
with lock jaw force
heart spilling blood into your body
little and angry
so very fucking angry
nothing is perfect in this world
I was raised on cable and crockpot cooking and black beauty
learned its nothing but terror now
little and angry
big and scary
blindly into the night
with no home cooking
i did bad things to you
and like a poor abused puppy
you keep trying to warm up to me
but I am the hand that hit you
that is trying to feed you again
bagged salad days
a real artistic type
wet and red and sharp
is it now or never?
down and flooded and alone
yours or mine?
bloody and beautiful and shy
is it her mommy or daddy?
gutted and depressed and soft
ignorance, or bliss?
I have dead and stale insides
liver rotting from
too much drink
my blood is black clotting
circulation has ceased
my lungs collapsed from the smoke
breath rings out in
broken gasps laughing at the
my glorious pussy
it keeps me going
the lines of fertility and sex
my sparkling symbol of femininity
my pink palace of
life or death
the punch line got lost in
falsehoods and pride
I want to press my sticky fingers
until they stop laughing and
the girls are getting sick
there is no one to blame
if they keep passing left
it will eventually come back
Arteries and Vessels close
stopping the blood from running to my brain
crunching bones beneath my toes
sliding into frame
I stumble through the wood
hoping to go home
Like sticks and stones
A moment of clarity
Shining through the thick
Hurtful and old
It’s short and sad and something I cannot face
Beautiful and bold
Crisp airy meringue
With red berries on a pastel plate
My heart icing over
Right back to being tight and cold
Together and alone
The moment is gone
Lost broken and disowned
To the blood racing
The crunching muddling my cold mind
Polar air in the warmth of night
Who is Counting?
1 manic girl
900 dollar pay check
200 on the way
1 broken heart
5 shots later
2 missed meals
1 night stand
20 year old heartbroken baby girl
Wet single ply paper is sticking to the counter,
and we are counting empty soap dispensers.
But who is washing their filthy hands anyway.
Her apartment keys are on a department store key ring,
and her expensive rings are on worthless fingers.
Painting the town with our rusty personalities and body glitter.
Yet we feel our best when we have been stripped down to nothing.
Stripping for anyone and everyone,
we are claiming empowerment.
We are messy girls in velvet dresses,
and well dressed girls in messy situations.
Buying shots we cannot afford.
Spiralling out of control in a city far from mom and dad.
We are starving and haven’t eaten in 17 hours.
We’ve been up all night smashing our delicate faces off the wall,
and grinding our weak yellow teeth until they crack and crumble.
We are swallowing parts of our teeth with little pills
and this help our stomach contents stay down.
We are going down on our friends,
and feeling utterly used.
We are painting the sheets with worthless fingers and broken toes.
We are practicing and painting , but getting no where.
Wearing out the brushes,
and brushing out knotted and dyed hair.
We are dying to get out of this fucking place.
in the garden of eden,
adam just is not right for eve.
adam is drinking bleach;
the forbidden fruit is premature suicide.