Staring in a mirror. Again
It makes me feel worse just to see

I braided my hair so neatly
Now it's falling apart at the seams

There's a comparison there
Let's not look into it

If I stick pins in
Tie up all the loose ends again

It'll look neater, sure
As long as you don't look too close

Cause there's a glittering metal barricade
Of a halfhearted hairstyle I tried to save

Mind's a whirlwind
Of needles and pins
Scrapped up
From the crafting station
Down in the basement
A homely mix
Of cotton fabrics
Flowing in the wind
Of imagination

Pins.
Needles.
Knives.
Shadows.
They know my name.
They seek my fame.
stop
My Temple plays unwitting host
To the horrid displays they love to *****.
I don’t think I can bear to know what’s wrong
With me.
Stop.
I don’t think I can bear to know what’s strong or weak.
Weak?
Weakness?
Weakness.
Frailty.
It all comes down to the end.
It spins,
It slides,
It taunts,
Stop!
Maybe if I spin again my own weaved web to comprehend,
Then maybe I can fix this flux that burns down my will to trust.
STOP!
Or maybe I can fly again or jump to the sun;
An Icarus end.
STOP!!
die.
I SAID STOP!!!
I’m broken this time, you can bet.
It’s what I get for casting light on my silhouette,
When I wasn’t ready yet.

Pins and needles, swallowed whole,
By the liars, that have told,
Chaos, blackmail, secrets too,
Full of pity all for you.
Pins and needles, thrown in their eyes,
To cleanse the darkness, from inside,
The core of every, single soul,
That is painted with blackened coal.
Pins that *****, needles sew,
Pins and needles through lies they flow,
Causing pain, regret, and fear
All to those that do not care.

Red eyes that pleas for aid.
Don’t bat your eye,
For soon they will no longer be here.

you’ve told me before,
self-loathing is just
a common cliché,
now everybody’s doing it.

that’s not to say
i haven’t seen how
your eyes roam over
your body like you’d been
stitched together with all
the wrong fabrics
i don’t think
i’ve ever seen you
look as dissatisfied as
when you look
at yourself.

you’ve told me before,
self-loathing is just like
an std, everybody’s had it
at some point.

it’s just that some people
were smart enough to
use protection or are abstinent
and they’re the ones
who sleep easy at night
while you’ve always got an itch
to scratch it was never clear
how they toed the line
between their self love
and hate better
than others and you
were their other,
caught them staring
and couldn’t tell the line
between love and hate

(thought you saw it
split the ground open
wanted to dip your toes
into the nothing between
you were scared
you’d fall in).

but you won’t tell
me what it’s like
when you look at yourself,
and your reflection
is rag-doll ragged
the perfect pincushion
and you pinpoint
all the split seams
moth holes your
smile is just a
loose thread you stop
to unravel

and you won’t say
what it’s like
when your reflection is
all pins and points
and you’re not sure
if the rag-doll face
underneath is still
there, at one point
she smiles
like only girls with pins
in their lips can,
her lips unravel

(you don’t smile).

you’ve told me before,
self-loathing is just
a common cliché,
there’s no way you’d
be caught dead
doing it.

i’ve seen the red-capped pins
you keep with your make-up.

they look so much
like my own.



hey.
are you still there?
i can't see you beneath
all those pins.

The drooping sun stood across the wooden bow,
showering it with drowsy thoughts for the wooden boy
In the abandoned graveyards where pavements were abolished
Plaid plague nourished the jingling broken eyes

The graveyards of dreams and graveyards of clocks
Will deliver the nails of sorority locks
To cradle the soft heat of the drenched sun
To bring on temptation of demolition’s sons

Let’s say that the pavements of hopes were of pain and vain
The vines were vanity and the roots were dignity
If agony keeps us close to our core,
then drench pins on my head to keep me human

It is not this onion I wish to *****
But your heart and mind I wish to stick
You'll think of me night and day
Until with words you arrive and say
"I love you"