in the assembly line
that is my existence,
i am the metaphorical conveyor belt.
people create something
and place
it on my body,
then it passes to another
and this goes on and on
until i am covered in millions
of creations
made by others

my hair catches the light
it turns golden
like midas put his hands on it
a heavenly glow sets itself behind me
as if i was sent from above
even though there isn’t one
and if there was
i’d be the one
crawling my way from below.

i know how it works
teens wanna **** and get ******
whatever the term
railed
ruined
destroyed
demolished
all the violent words
for s-e-x
we never say that one
that’s too deep
too personal
it’s better to think of the taker
as a filthy *****
there’s no love there
there’s no strings
they’re just a hole

when i get crushed by a semi
when i slit my wrists to ****** pulp
when i get shot in the head
when i fall asleep on the tracks
when the smoke settles in my lungs
when the rope tightens around my neck

are they gonna miss me?
are they gonna kiss my grave and cry?
will they talk about me?
or will i fade into oblivion
with the rest of the dead kids
with the ****** victims
and victims of their own head

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

i’m going to be a sinner if sinning is
painting a nursery
while my belly swelled

i’m going to be a sinner if sinning is
walking down the aisle
while wearing a million mile dress

i’m going to be a sinner if sinning is
having him hold me in his arms
while watching the stars

but oh god,
i’m gonna be a saint if to be a saint is
letting him destroy my body
while telling him i love him