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Fish in a bowl
Round and round

Swimming in ****
Bathing in ****

Soon I will die
A living prize

I’m a fish
in my bowl  

Round and round
Until I die
I am cheaper than the stuffed animals
I am a state fair goldfish
May 30 · 1.0k
A Prologue to My Epilogue
I know that when I’m gone
you will mock me for my selfishness
for taking my life away from you
but please know,
that I lived my life bound by selflessness
I lived to serve and please
I recited my poems in rehearsal
so my last words could comfort you
and you’d never feel to do the same as I
I scar my flesh to bear my cross
So you may never have to.
Please know,
I lived every day confined by others needs
I listened to your woes
I starve my body to bear your cross
So you may never have to.
Know that this last act I take isn’t selfish
That my last act is one of freedom
It will be my only act of self-indulgence
in my life of catering you.
my final act is one of freedom
I died to please myself
May 29 · 579
Full For Now
He is the full moon

my eyes they drift up

from the two white lines

just a moment at a time

a flirt with death

a touch of gravel

He is the full moon

my eyes they drift up

from a parked car

an hour at a time

I’m late again

a touch on my arm

He is the full moon tonight

but he will wane

he will shrink

his love will weazen

I will be left alone

I will not be whole

She is my new moon.
Be my new moon
May 29 · 1.0k
It’s Weird
The first time it happened I was 5
I was lured by candy as children are
All I can remember is hands and pain
And being told to not remember
And I when I speak on it
All I can hear is familial silence
And stares that tell me to not speak up at all
When CPS came knocking on the door
I covered for him.
My mom asked me why
Why I didn’t tell her all these years
My response was simple:
I did the first time it happened
It continued still, you were drunk after all
I wasn’t the first he did it to
And I’m sure I wasn’t the last
It’s weird to tell people to not joke about ******
It’s weird to tell people my first experience was when I was five
It’s weird to tell people I remember
It’s weird to pretend I don’t

The second time it happened I was 15
With my first ever boyfriend
I was out cold, and he did as he did
I don’t remember much, but this
He’s checked my pulse and he bragged
For months I didn’t realize what happened
I could not register what it was
I told my mom, I could see she blamed me
I could see trust wane in her rise
I could tell she didn’t see it how it hurt me
I was 15 and asleep
He was 16 and awake
And somehow I blame myself
It’s weird to tell people I still love him
It’s weird to tell people I forgave
It’s weird having to tell people it wasn’t my fault
And it’s weird losing friends over it

Third time it was with my boyfriend again
I wasn’t asleep I wasn’t a child
I was scared
He held me still
I said no but he didn’t know I was serious
Tears slipped out of my eyes
I froze in terror
I cried for hours afterwards
I knew what it was, he knew what it was
I blame myself.
I told him no.
No. No. No.
Now I flinch when someone touches the back of my head
I am wounded
It’s weird to tell people it happened again
It’s weird I still love him after all of it
It’s weird to forgive again
It’s weird

They were hundreds of times between
Of men touching what they weren’t supposed to
Of I’m making comments about me
Coercing me
Making me a part of their perversions
Of believing flirting is ticket for their ****** harassment
Of making me instinctively hate men.
Victim blaming
Degrading
Sexualizing
I am yet a woman
It’s weird to not be a woman
It’s weird to be a talking point
It’s weird to be silenced
It’s weird.
sensation

may it come in rains

periodically, forcefully

persistent in its integrity

distant for some maybe

but all so interpersonal for me

tapping on my window

showering me

seeping through the cracks

unreined
Apr 24 · 797
Pack Rat
theres a pack rat in my stomach
grabbing reason to starve myself

counting calories and carbs
till I think I might pass out

though logic is no burden
that mouse if knows my routes

knows the miles, knows the steps
that I’ll take for a piece of chocolate

and every night I try to cough it out
to purge it from rotting gut

they say this rat is life threatening
and that I can finally see

because one day I’ll feel it
tearing through this wasting body

there’s a pack rat in my stomach
grabbing reasons to starve myself
Apr 24 · 438
take what you want
i’d cross through burning bridges
and swim through boiling seas
if that's what you want of me.

i'll trudge through ice and glaciers,
climb so high i cannot breathe
is that you want from me?

i can play your game to lose
i'll let you win, guaranteed
what more do you want from me?

if you want my life, have it
i'd let you **** me with glee
there can't be more you want from me?

i'll do anything alright
just promise me one thing please
please oh please,
keep your paws off my poetry
Apr 16 · 508
Kinetic
I live on the edge of a chair
Tethered to the rafters
everyday I dream of slipping
Testing this potential energy

My toes curl around the wood
My heels lift me up
My fingers trace the rope
I am potential energy

My feet ache
My legs ache
My body aches
One day I’ll collapse

I live my life on the edge of a chair
tethered to the rafters
one of these days I will slip
I will be born kinetic.
I’m taunted by my very own
kinetic energy
Apr 16 · 963
Glass Feet
I’m numb below the ankle
I walk on your eggshells
I pay no kind to splinters
I stomp on your land of glass

but in the middle of the night
when one sleeps so soundly
I weep at the sight of my wounds
for they do not ache a bit

I can stitch them myself again
using thread from my knickers
I make it much easier for you
to do as you do, I’m still bleeding

consequently I’ve left in shards
this repeats most every time
and at mid-sky I do it all again
I hear crunching beneath my skin

I think that’s why I feel nothing
nothing below the ankle
nothing below the belt
I’m cast away in a body of glass
I wish to feel something again
Mar 25 · 50
McDonalds Napkin
I am a napkin
discard me.

Doodles and grease and all.
Discard me.

Like I’ve been discarded before
Again and again

No more friends.
This always happens.

If you ask them what happened
They’d blame me.

That’s probably fair.
If you don’t consider the disregard of my existence, pushed aside for others comforts.

I am a nice character yes indeed,
but you hate the actor inside.

Does it pain you to know,
that you aren’t more flawed than I

I give you advice so you might appreciate
everything I’ve given you.

But alas I am nothing. Just a napkin.

Please discard.
mustard filled rant
Mar 25 · 316
Txt Me Plz
Every year,
Like autumn leaves I shed my friends off these twiggy bones
Because they grow too tired

Every year,
This depression it addicts me, a cycle Id rather forget
But it keeps me guessing

One of these years,
I will be found dead, hanging from our garage.
I’ll lay a tarp, I’ve written my will, it’s all put together.

Because every year,
they give up on me just like the years before
I isolate all the same.

Maybe some year,
They can reach out, and see through all my fog
I swear im not boring, just scratch my surface
You’ll see

This year,
I’ll live, to tell the tale, of losing my seasonal friends
But next who knows, I might be alone
I’ll write you when I’m gone.
Just me and my revolving cast of friends
Mar 25 · 308
200 a walk
Rhododendron bumblebees
Oh how weak my knees can be
Counting every step
it’s a threat, no it’s death

Palm leaves, apple trees
wishing that I could believe
my body is a temple
break it down tenfold

Lungs heave
free me
trapped inside this barn
my body is a spool of yarn.

watch me string it out
Mar 25 · 303
doubtful seductress
I do not want to be sexualized
Why do I do this why

I just want to be held
Not pruned, or plucked

but I ****** him once again

He doesn’t cherish this body
He does not give it praise

I hate how I must sit here
and watch him take take take

but I ****** him once again

He barely gets ***** to me
He does not bat an eye

I do not want to be viewed
I just want to disappear

but I ****** him once again

He can’t even finish
He can’t even try

I hate everything about this
I hate myself for all of this

and I can’t even ****** him again
Mar 24 · 285
cumbersome self-loathing
This body is so cumbersome and empty
full of bones I dream of breaking

so ****** the idea has become that
I ****** to the thought

of how great the spoils are of wasting
this perfect body away

I am growing tired of this skin
how it hold me captive

gripping tightly to the ivory prison
I gush, the thought of carving in

A primitive temptress, a ghost of the past
a shadow on white fair skin

How I wish to paint it red, to rekindle my flame again

How cumbersome this body can be

It’s been ******, and hit, and starved, and stuffed
What more could I wish to be done?

It craves the oil in a pain of rage
It loves how my skin must boil

Oh god may I ask
Was this what you intended
When you created man in your image
Do you hate yourself just as so
So am I just another flawed creature born from a perfect god.
Destined to stray from his lies.
My god this self loathing is tiring
if you are capable of painful silence,
you are capable of painful relief.
I never take my own advice
Oct 2020 · 325
Creases Between My Brows
Elizabeth Zenk Oct 2020
There is no dishonesty
greater than mine, o lord
there is no lie
further than mine, o lord

I shall give you one thing, to repent
no I can not give you my head,
nor my heart, nor my hands,

I could give no god such things.
Unholy and corrupt those gifts would be.
They all contain my sin.

Instead I present the creases amongst my brow.
Taken as a my last untainted element,
Free from the treachery of my crime.

Uncertainty

Though you don’t think it much
It may be all I have left
to prove that I had grace

They never betrayed me as they won’t you.
They will not displeasure, o lord.
For they are honest things.

They speak of pain and joy
They whisper my deepest heartaches
They coo my greatest fears

If you would be so kind, o lord.
Take this gift with open arms
the rest you can discard.

Toss me in the ocean, for I am but a sinner.
A broken thing, too broken to beg
I am not fit for Heaven, o lord.

But you can take my brow.
They are pure and true.
Aug 2020 · 312
Ode to Dandelions
Elizabeth Zenk Aug 2020
it wasn’t the earth that brought them here. Nor grass nor tree
instead a solemn scavenger
disinterested of it’s grateful treasures

sprinkling not like rain but like ashes
a goodbye unsaid and unheard
a kiss blown from armies away
hoping it may reach his camp

no god brought it here
as we fight our wars and **** our brothers
it did not fall from heaven
pushing through a crowd of loss

may there be no reason for its being
but persist it must
in hope for its spawns survival
growing evermore

through the cracks, they pray that shrapnel escapes
not all are so lucky as they
blood spilling for their passage on

they are no villains
just weaken souls in need of homes
so far from where their lovers lay,
in bed with other men

deployed as her seed will be too
dandelions
soldiers
in the wind together
Oct 2019 · 1.5k
candy apple cyanide
Elizabeth Zenk Oct 2019
no one tells her that those candy-colored pills are not chocolate
that no matter how many she stuffs she'll never be full,
nor will she be entirely empty.

though they taste so sweet
they will rot your teeth
and their effects shall be engraved in your skull

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not take a bite

no one tells the ugly girl with a mouth full of tombstones
that she gleefully presents for show and tell
that she too needs to eat, to keep it down

though the dissolving graves
withing her smile
tell a saddening tale

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not take a bite

no one tells her that her mind and mirror are distorting
morphing the person she truly is
into the person she hates to be

though her measurements are static
her body seems to inflate
like balloons at parties she avoided

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not that a bite

no one tells her that average isn't too heavy
that she can be loved and called beautiful at 120
and that she can love herself too

though she's grown accustomed
to the taste of acid and ice cream
and no sees no need for stopping

that candy apple cyanide
so hard to resist
so hard to not that a bite

no one tells the girl that she's wasting away her body
no one warned her of all the pain

no one warned her that her illnesses would always stay
flush those pills
let those apples rot
let your garden flourish
in the poison
you haven’t yet forgot
Sep 2019 · 496
honey
Elizabeth Zenk Sep 2019
your sugar-sweet voice
makes my face shift hues.
most every word you speak,
tastes of toffee and milk.

honeycomb heart
so sweet and so kind
your gentle embraces
taming my world of fear

you turn salty tears
into sweet honey
like warm liquid citrine,
golden as meadow’s light

delicate kisses
light sunshine touches
romance’s secret dance
our blooming love flowers

drunk off your nectar
a syrupy high
your heavenly flavor
erasing my mind’s pain
Elizabeth Zenk Aug 2019
the price you pay to be thin
you won’t even miss your fee,
it's just the feeling of empty

nevermind the color in your face,
draining into plastic bags,
filled with last nights hunger

no matter your darkening smile,
cracking into sunflower blossoms,
that you hide behind your knuckles.

don't bat an eye at your thinning hair,
swimming in your bathroom drain
strangling your hope of recovery.

now what could those tired eyes,
broken and red with strain say that
puffy cheeks and chapped lips cannot

lips like concrete, spilling weeds,
lips stuffed with cigarette love,
lips that once bloomed spoken word

but you smell of no dandelions.
you wear perfume of stomach bile
mixed with the stench of hatred.

the smell that every bathroom you visit
knows like the back of your hand,
the hand scarred with teeth’s embrace.

the side effects aren’t pretty
but that’s all a small price to pay
for the feeling of trying to be thin.
Aug 2019 · 320
my voice
Elizabeth Zenk Aug 2019
am i something other than the scoff of thunder?
other than the whimper of the wind?
do my words mean more than the weeping of a storm?
or am i the same as the breeze out of reach of the hurricane’s rage?

shall i linger like ash
or drift like sea-foam?

what matters more
how loud my song
or how long it echoes?
or how long it echoes?
Jul 2019 · 424
piccolo sky
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2019
you’ve drenched my canvas in pigment,
so i’ll paint you a memorial,
with passionate bonfire sunsets
lolling cloud’s giggles
and the loveliest oneiric wisps.

you are the piccolo sky

the maundering thunderstorm’s dissonance,
and the electric sting of the lightning.

the dazzling stars sharpness coupled with,
the magnetic pull of the milky moon.

the lustful vapor of magma sunsets,
and the shimmering ocean's distortions.

you're the tornado's wrath fueled destruction
and the light kissing dust in the sunrise.

you can be as daunting and as infinite
as you grey abyss in december,

or as soft as april's white raspy breath,
loving brushstrokes across the blue heavens.

i don't know how i reached you so high up,
or how i can stay afloat in the clouds.

but i will figure it out just for you.

you are the piccolo sky.
the piccolo sky

sharp yet soft
beautiful yet harsh
melodic yet shrill
Jul 2019 · 541
lightning, fire, recession.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2019
bony branches reach,
fingers point to wisps
bottomless sky trembles,
finches tread the clouds;
a question.

chilly breath rattles,
nature's coo darkens
waves of grey grow infinite,
deep grumbles follow;
an answer.

deciduous skeletons sway
dry leaves cackle
winds hum indifferently,
sinister growls emanate;
a warning.

bitter air swirls,
dark hatred billows,
rolling mistrust encroaches,
blanketing the stillness;
a threat.

viscous jaws snap,
energy laps at dry bark,
brief clarity,
deadly faze;
a strike.

woods slits into flame,
smoke oozes from its shelter
fire coughs sparks west,
destruction on its way
a battle.

droplets of forgiveness,
ashes sizzle into ink
soot dissolves away
war's footprint revealed;
a recession.
a gentle nod to 7/4/17
the damage renewed beneath unearthed soil.
Jun 2019 · 401
below sea level
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
When you’re below sea level,
the downhills are trenches,
the uphills are the visible depths.
No matter where you are, you’re drowning,
it just depends how much pressure you’re under, how crushing it is.
Lungs always screaming,
head always dreaming,
body never receiving,
hope starts retreating.
Jun 2019 · 338
sink numbly
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
you can cut out the tongue
of someone’s who’s numb
and still they shall not say a thing.

there is nothing beneath
that mirror of grief
and nothing to stir the silence.

no flame to purify
you’ll still want to die
and sink into oceans palm.

so you drown in the sea
you can soon be free
and still you shall not feel a thing.
and still I do not feel a thing
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
If I could paint your every detail
and drown your profile in colors
and let them ooze life into the canvas,

I’d miss a million of your hues,

and if I could write my passions,
into sonnets and quatrains
and pour out my heart and soul

I’d lose thousands of your wonders

but if I could give you all my trust
and loan you my heart
just for you to throw them away

I’d rather leave than stay.

but I know that I couldn’t stray.
My canvas will then grey
if you refuse to stay

and if I'm the one you use
my poetry will be blue.
Jun 2019 · 575
dandelion smut
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
dandelion seeds
sprout bad memories
unwanted by wind
heightened downward spin
time again will show
how earth tends to sow
under leaves of weeds
unholy misdeeds
grow into mistrust
deflowered by lust
he deceives quiet well
broken petal hell
manipulated
and self-degraded
deep roots anchor tight
they cling onto fright
weeds want affection
willing infection
tainted damaged hearts
ransacked for their parts
left with only roots,
terror of disputes,
and alcohol now
so alas they vow
never, never again
they’ll forget the pen
that cleared the mind of
   their godforsaken love
strong weeds grow in the cities,
to be tainted by those who see
how broken they are.
But desperate for love they fall,
they don’t care about it all
not the pain, not the manipulation,
even if they see it, they just want to be loved

their dandelion fluff
turned to unwanted ****.
Jun 2019 · 264
kill me with jealousy tea
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
bore knifes into my flesh
and bran me with your ****

i can bear the words,
wear my filthy name
  
****.

so if you want my pain
you’ll listen now to me

you’ll fill up the tub
with my greatest flaw

jealousy.

soak me up in envy
****** the one i love

steal from me my pride
i’ll drink a tea of

foxglove.
Jun 2019 · 802
you reached the top
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
once you reach the surface
it’s easy to float

and it’s easier to forget
about all of us drowning beneath

and easiest to pay no mind
to the gargling of salt water in throat
you've reached the top my love
with one hand you tread gently
with the other you hold me under.
Jun 2019 · 261
change the channel
Elizabeth Zenk Jun 2019
change the channel please
the static is choking me
the digital fuzz
the buzz of the drugs
is all too much to handle
so please oh please
change the channel.
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May 2019 · 307
rip through flesh to free
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
the beast inside me is hungry for blood,
it burrows its hellish gaze into reflective glass
and it rips what I see to shreds,
and worst of all it tells me to do the same.
rip through flesh to free what lays beneath
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
when the hands of a chosen,
gentle lover
are not the first you have felt.
you flinch at the signs of intimacy.

because we are animals
with broken bones
mended with welded thoughts
and who cower at the idea of fracture.

because we are flowers
with plucked petals
striking with jagged thorns
and whose blossoms are choked by thistles.

because we are butterflies
with shredded wings
hesitantly fluttering with fear
and who are bodied by the terrible wind.

and alas
we wander
we grow
and we fly.
we may be broken, plucked, and shredded,
but we live on.
May 2019 · 1.9k
redwood in a birch forest
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
a redwood in our family tree
you yell at me to shed my leaves

and whittle down my cosmic grasp
and come down to Earth, perhaps.

but your leafy canopy once shielded me
and now that I've grown up differently.

my roots you tangle and choke.
unaware of how I broke.

want me to tell you how I'm evergreen
when there isn't another conifer to be seen?

you never told me how to grow
so I taught myself everything I know.

so when you see my towering grace
know that I was not misplaced

and all of it was your mistake
and my pride you'll never take.
As roots grip onto the crust below
the sky welcomes my embrace.
May 2019 · 317
white flags, red mind
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
beaten and bludgeoned
mind’s eye clouded
in vermilion defeat
uncognized haze.
astilbe branches
bleed into a canopy
of tinted pools,
scarlet windows,
weary blossoms.
all flags are fire,
all songs are screams,
and nothing is true
in these panes
of crimson glass.
White flags
stained red with
yew berry words.
Elizabeth Zenk May 2019
Thou shall finally be revered as that of commonality in the menace of living.

A staple of humanity's misdoings and a trademark of all we've done wrong.
Apr 2019 · 823
crazy sanity
Elizabeth Zenk Apr 2019
tell me i’m crazy,
so i can feel sane.
Apr 2019 · 230
paralysis
Elizabeth Zenk Apr 2019
liquid prism,
daydream’s current

drifting softly,
a bed of satin ribbon

hardening breeze
windy shifting

a dark river
darkening, heavenly pool

storm cloud’s rhythm
thundering fear

raindrops beauty
the gentle battering drums

brilliant flash
strands of light beams

rolling rain moves
to the rocky ocean’s grasp

mixing hatred
a cage of waves

deep blue prison
the nightmare’s paralysis.
trapped under
the rolling
sea.
Mar 2019 · 281
silence the child of space
Elizabeth Zenk Mar 2019
with a constellation in your palms
you'll mold the universe as you wish

you are untamed, an inkwell of hate
that you spill onto everything good

hands of aybss, you covered my mouth
and then you silence the child of space

darken nebulae, and drown the moon
you camouflage your hateful misdeeds

scrape the stars from the heavens above
and sweep away their cosmic beauty

**** off supernovas, galaxies
or anything that is beautiful

but when the quasar still outshines you
you can’t stop me from starting to speak.
not even a black hole can silence the child of space.
Mar 2019 · 313
humanity’s holometabolous
Elizabeth Zenk Mar 2019
intoxicate the lively soul with lies
the obedient will stay grounded,
and the thinkers they shall then pulverize

for mindless madness drifts
falsehoods become candid
and society rifts

nobody knows the bucolic
so humanity must be
holometabolic

so when bumblebees eat their kin  
and butterflies drink blood
i’ll engage in our guilt sin

insecticide
suicide
They clip your wings
so you cannot fly from
this place.
So you can never reach space.
Feb 2019 · 1.9k
Dree
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
How shall I endure
the ineffable waves of dolor?
Can this apotheosis of hell be dreed?
Will the unquenchable flames of dread ever be conquered?
Whether by the hands of man
or by the temptation of sword against vein.

To bite your tongue
and choke down blood
is to live a selfless life.

Some aren't as lucky
and drown in their secrets
and they are called selfish

for not being able to do
what others don't have to.
Feb 2019 · 485
love’s charades
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
‘love is a game’
then let us play charades.
I’ll play the part and sing the song
in elaborate masquerades.
Feb 2019 · 227
immortal marathon
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
If immortality is granted
that shall be the day I die.

For if living has no finish line,
why must I run at all?
Feb 2019 · 1.1k
impunity of reality
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
Impunity of reality

Thou that have been purified through
deafening and blindness,
shall perish under the weight of the world
when they’re senses are emancipated.

To ******* your spawn with the lies
of success and meaning
or to shield them from injustice
is as harmful as belt upon back.
if you remove their false reality
they shall crumble
under the pressure of society
and under the knowledge they have gained.
Feb 2019 · 956
halcyon
Elizabeth Zenk Feb 2019
sempiternal memories
flow like a river
the resting brume on misty waters
twisting into the distant offing
the mellifluous melody of the ethereal past

like thunder above songbirds,
the illusion dissipates into a weazening
idealistic falsehood, an optimistic masquerade
the thrash of lightning onto deciduous skeletons
awakens the truth beneath

as the roaring flames erupt
the leaves effloresce to ash
the halcyon lies are swelted
into no more than gentle dust
the endless turned ephemeral
halcyon lies
burn into
ephemeral truths
Jan 2019 · 982
goals of gold
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
Why make goals of gold
and grandeur and fame.

When we all live to die in
flesh and bone.
we live to die
gold or nothing.
Jan 2019 · 10.5k
i was born me
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
If I was supposed to
be defined by grades on
a paper, or by words in
a dictionary

I wouldn’t have
been born human.

If I was supposed to
be confined by margins
on an essay, or by stars
on a flag.

I wouldn’t have
the ability to create.

If I was supposed to
be defined by hatred
to my name or by my
disgraceful past.

I wouldn’t have
been born me.
Jan 2019 · 1.8k
corpse into flowers
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
with a lead bullet dancing in my head
i’ll send the petals flying
onto the tombstone where which i lay
with shriveled lilacs dying.

dormant my figure shall wait
under the snows of winter’s rage
beneath the dirt i lay.

i will turn from flesh and bone into
daffodils and daisies.
the blooming of my corpse

i will be left forgotten.
down here within my coffin
i will be left
rotten.
my flowers shall bloom
and my body will be no more than petals plucked by a lovesick fool
Jan 2019 · 358
pipe bomb
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
Regurgitating visceral insults
and spewing out vile barbs.
A danger to all around.
A pipe bomb,
building,
inculcating,
and storing away
immense pressure
until I
e x p l o d e.
And you will see me for the destructive force I truly am.
I am mlre  dangerous than you know
Jan 2019 · 454
bad habits
Elizabeth Zenk Jan 2019
bad habits
the normalization of disfiguring one’s self
a daily roadblock.
a bountiful collection of poor decisions
that i’ve lined up upon my wrist.
a bile curdling hatred of my fading wounds,
they are the only ones that stay.
bad habits
they are the only ones that stay
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