Lost in the land
Of pretending to be grand
Saving their conceit
For their nearest and dearest
Every malignant narcissist
Has two middle names:
One is "Abuser"
The other is "Slanderer"
And they live in the shadow
Of a deep, unbearable shame
That makes them shameless.

People want to tell me secrets—
      in grocery store check outs,
             bus stations…
                  funerals—
               ad infinitum.


In a delusional state—
         my own grandmother
   tells me she’s contemplating
                 suicide.


A friend told me I give off
something that makes
people feel safe.

I told them
      Ted Bundy
had the same
           thing.

I'm done



with love.

with you
and
you

and you



and especially
you.


I don't need ***
i don't want
skin

i tear it all
away



and start over



but

please know

that i'm sorry
that i hurt you


but from the start,
i told you

that the boys fall in love with me

and i never love them back.

I have a broken mirror
in my pocket
I carry it with me
wherever I go
(the shards cut through my jeans, stab my thigh
dyeing my pants red)

I have tried to take it
out, pick
the pieces
out of there                      

                      (it's easier to just leave it.)
I end up with only ******
fingertips, I smear   my
                    blood on the rugs
I sleep on,
                               the bed is too soft, too warm
                                                         to sleep in

I'm not used to kindness
or- - - - - even
        liking someone

                         so I become
scared, that things won't
                                              work out

and when you try to pick these
shards out of my leg,




(turning your beautiful
          fingers red&raw;)

when you try helplessly

to erase my pain

                                           I will lay on this blood-  
                                                                ­   stained



rug                              and think






Why are you doing
              

                      this
  


            for me

Oh how that sky
gets me every time.
It dwells in the indescribable.

I hate to say it but when the going gets tough
I hate god.
Doubt him.

But oh that sky.
Is very convincing.