i am overcome with grief and guilt every time i wash my hands
because i do not know how much of you is left in the fine lines of my palms

constricted by an ophidian
i slither away, just to live
is this where new life begins?
is this where i shed my skin?

bitten by fangs of chagrin
where to win is to never forgive
hiss with this abyss within
i'm living in a pit of sin

with my vision wearing thin
venom is a gift to give
i slip beneath the rocks again
this is where i shed my skin

I'm no stranger to drugs.

I look young,
but I can't say the same for my lungs.
My eyes have seen some ****,
oh but they are always up for another hit.
Pupils are used to the dilation,
that comes with the apparitions.
And my nostrils are hallways,
always ready to lead me to a bright, jumpy day.

But there is no way of purchasing the greatest feeling, no type of currency.
There is no drug, no alcohol that compares to love and its potency.
Oh my, I wish I could tell you where to find it.
Hook you up with a dealer that can sell you a hit.
I would sell my soul to get a dime bag of that pure, untouched substance.
Put it directly in my veins, let it travel to my heart, feel the sustenance.

The truth is, I just want to feel alive.
I want to feel like pure ecstasy, all the time, every moment of my life.
I've lost that feeling given to us by the gods,
and will do anything to find it, against all odds.
Oh darling, oh dear give me what little you have left.
This life is cruel, and my addiction even more so, please come death.
Death, put a rest to my thirst.
But give me a taste first.

I'm no stranger to drugs.
But babygirl, I'm fienin' for your love.

calloused hearts and bleeding fingers
harmony only achieved by sacrifice
the pure must stain their porcelain shells
and the broken
will scatter the ashes
the springtime brings new birth
as the flowering genesis of uterine obsession
but black boots and harsh words
may destroy this new beginning

in life and death dichotomy
wandering nomadically through purgatory
searching for contentedness
and rejuvenating rebirth
only to find myself further imprinting
old footsteps
from past and present life

i want you to be here when
i’m no longer soft and beautiful.
i want you to stay for when
my voice slips out of itself
and into another, when the crescent moons
of my body turn stubborn and rigid
and my chest is gutted, stitched, sculpted
like marble like artwork like a chiseled
gravestone reading “here lies your golden girl,
basked in till her light changed hues.”
stay until all my cells have been replaced
and i look at you with different eyes,
hold you with different arms.
this body is changing for my today
but staying for your tomorrow.