i am twelve years of
self pity

holding myself to my father's words
i will never be good enough

i am a short fuse
soaked in bourbon

a handful of every pill in the cabinet
and i call myself a cocktail party

i am reckless
like jumping out of moving cars

i died a long time ago

but she says the corpse thing
is hot

she holds my hands
and i think it's so she'll stop shaking

i can taste all the pills in her stomach

they taste a little bit like she's saying goodbye

she keeps nodding off
so i keep telling her to open her eyes

i know she has a habit of talking in her sleep
and i'm just not ready to hear this

i sniffle back tears
and something bitter
my hands shake
and my heart beats fast

i think i love you

or i'm just high again

remember razor blades
and how she tasted when you kissed

something smells like rust

and i can't tell it it is open wounds
or if i just left myself out in the rain again

what is it like to love someone
more than you hate yourself

i am trying to remember

no, i don't care that you think the game is broken
it's not supposed to give you tickets
it's guitar hero

no, your kid can't climb on the stage
get them down
cause you sure as hell don't want me to

shut the **** up
it's not my fault your kid ****** themselves
and no, i will not clean them up for you

you can have one thing from the red bin
no, you can't have the chuck e. doll
you only have three tickets


you know what?
listen, i don't really care

i wear a rat suit for minimum wage

feel like

biting my nails too close
and stubbing the same toe
over and over and over again

except a lot ******* worse

taste like

bile and stomach acid

and my throat ******* burns

and i can't tell if it's ever going to end
or if i just have to get high again

i hate that i let other people touch me

i do not feel mine after
and i hardly feel theirs

i hate how good she looks so
sometimes she catches me staring at the wall

i **** her because she tells me she loves me

and she tastes sweeter than the last girl

and she stops when i ask
and so she feels safe to me

and i almost feel mine again

and i want so badly to be hers

most days
i say i'd rather be dead

i wake up with migraines a lot
maybe because i'm always screaming in my sleep

and i'm constantly shaking
but i'm never cold

and i'm trying so hard to get comfortable

my insides feel like they're rotting

and the truth it
i just want to be in control

maybe i'll just **** myself

she's the color of

bleach down your throat

she knows all too well
the way stomach acid tastes

i've never seen someone

look

so

pale