I sit and comfort myself with lies
It's all going to be fine
It's all over now
But then the monster arises from her slumber and disproves my hope for things to be just 'okay'
She screams at me.
Stupid *****! Lazy! Fat!
As I let the words soak into my skin, I tell myself more and more lies.
It's all over now, darling.
It's going to be just fine.

there comes a point
when the laughter of friends fades
the warm glow of a pub
the smell of spilled beer and cheap fries
the feel of others
seems far away
these points come
when the heaviness of February settles on your heart
fills up your throat
dries your eyes
at this point it feels like all the warmth you know
is snuffed out
and spring is too far away
and the bottle of wine on your counter is too expensive to drink all at once
in these moments
when the cold around you keeps
you awake
when kanye west's cold
makes you think
about the way you treat yourself
when your feet throb and feel cold
under wollen socks and flannel
when tea doesn't warm your stomach
when ana's words almost feel like friendship
again
these moments can make
a person look
a thousand years old
skin sallow
and bones frail
these moments when your mind crosses
every road
stopping on each face of your
futurepastpresent
of
every
bridge burned
and even those flames can't warm you
when you think about everyone in your life
and realize
                                                         ­                           not one of them would think about you
but tomorrow
when sun tears through
my window
i might feel a little warmer
and maybe i will forget all about tonight
and the sometimes moments
and the lows that come
when you least expect

If you were a corpse accepting cremation
               I would be the flame
                             that lavishly licked your flesh,
         the heat, heaped for your hair on a pyre
the last peril your boney body submits to,
making the air all around stink of you.

Forget the fact that you corrupt my mind,
             it’ll only work out if your thoughts stink of me.

                                       If for one second during
                        your self worshipping, wistful stares
          into a mirror that drips a musty condensation
                       that lingered from your skinny, ****
                         torso after your morning shower, you
                                stand there smile *******
                          yourself with puckered lips and
          un-dilated pupils, flirting with
                          camera phone pixels you think to yourself;

                                                     * Should I post me on myspace?
                               Should I send a text message pic to myself?
                 Should I forward it to that guy that I met
           to make him think that I’m burning for him?*

                             If for that second I could be but that spark,
                an after thought flare that gets you to want
                    more than what it is that you got,
                                          where would you go?

             With whom would you make yourself over?

I’m waiting for the morning your ashes
      wake next to me; smoldered and spread out over my

          mattress and under my breath, and
           your eye lashes charred with clunky mascara
                 crumble as you replay in your silly head
                          the late mass I celebrated last night
                                                   when I exhumed and inhaled
                                    that same condensation;
      
Little taste droplets of you then exhaled  
          from me to your golden tin flesh
     that burned you to ******.
      
                    Because of my tempered tongue you
               cravingly bathed with,
     because of your hair I feverishly wrapped
                round my fists as
         my head altered and smoothed out from whiskey  
    bounced waves of frivolous  

thrusts      pulls releases,  
           pushes      twitches              friction

                                                in perfect timed fashion
                                                between your radio
                
                  antenna       thin           legs  
      and your rib meat torso
you forced my lips unto.

                                                           That will be the night
                                   you will come.
                                                               Yeah, that’s right            

                 SEE                  YOU                    MMM-hmmm,

                                I will see you melt on that night.
                                         And it will be your cremation.

We are both the good eggs
Beating hearts and loving minds
These little bits of pure joy
Light our world up from inside

And that's what keeps me going
And that's what gets me through
When each and every morning
My waking thought finds you