I am on the highway
To hell's bells
And I'm pregnant
With devil's anger child
Taking a walk in solipsism park
Smoking some remedy
Breathing from asylum air
And where is he?
He is looking straight through me
And his soul is revealing
Its the cold fire
That is misleading
He is fighting in his sleep again
Hugging his skeletons again
Helpless child
Going for a rage war
Solus
Walking towards the kitchen
On this toes
Taking out all the knives
Counting them
And i know he likes numbers
He looks towards the sky
And the clouds confuses him
He pours out his blood
Drawing the letter A
Repeatedly
Not even obsessively
Justified in his judgement
Him and his vanity
In an alternate reality
Out of proportion
Full of distortion
This ******
And his bluejackets
Anchored me with his diaries
Walking on embers now
In a state of trance now
Makes me wonder
Are monsters born or created?
Mortem predestination
He keeps giving me this psychic vibe
From a foreign tribe
I can't just put a lid on it
I can't just turn my back on it
Run, everybody begged me
But with the beast clothed in human skin tonight
Outside the television Screen
We are wired the same tonight
Dancing to Electro Swing by his side
Tying his tie
And I like it
He reaches out for his wooden telegraph
Can't help but listen
To Maria
And all her chants
Makes him gaze into the same tall building
From that retro piano bench
He gets up
With his hands covered in blood
Summons me by the edge
Two A's drawn on a sketch
Standing by the line
The choice is all mine

My life is an escape plan
I run through this
Bored with the walls and the rules
Tired being scared of punishment
Starved with freedom
I won't look back, won't come back

They sneak away in plain sight
And leave with an empty stomach
Only wanting more

Best not to offer answers
When you must know
How many angels may dance on the head of a pin
There are no angels
But the answer is seven

Best not to offer answers
When death is made of dust
And no soul like a phoenix
Rises from those ashes

Best not to offer answers
But enjoy your time alive
That seemed but a moment
When you have moments left to breathe

I,
have issues.
But probably not the kind you think.
Mine were created by my father and big sister.
By their relationship.
I have strived for a better relationship
to be better at everything than her.
But I've given up.
I no longer see the point
When you're sixteen years old
And you're more mature than your forty-three year old father.
Even so I'm terrified I'll end up like my sister.
Albeit she's doing well now
She's a teacher and is happy
and, she hates our fathers guts.
I don't blame her though
when you're father calls you a *****
And accuses you of sleeping around
because you go to school early to get help.
I can see why.
It doesn't help when he sides with his sister-in-law
And he tells you to "respect your elders"
even though she tried to burn you with a firework.
I do blame her however
for that dark cloud over my birthday.
See the night I turned ten
she took those pills.
She drank that strawberry Hill Boonesfarm.
She tried to **** herself.
But see I'm the only one who remembers the date
I remember every detail of that night.
Every image
Every feeling,
Everything.
I remember the red and blue flashing lights.
I remember the gurney
I remember the cold of the night,
until I went numb that is.
I have no respect for my father
when you do that to a child how could you.
But I am terrified of that.
Terrified I'll end up like her
that I'll break
that I'll be the one on the floor unconscious.
He was trying to do better
but I think he's given up too.
And while my greatest fear is that I'll be like my sister.
My second greatest
is that I'll end up with someone like my father.

You came up my throat like the last overdosed pill
I can’t even remember how you got here against my will
So I tried to paint you in colors that weren’t real
Now I need back the parts I let you steal.

I compare your eyes to the red autumn sky
There’s a whole world inside your pupil, a whole world high
You said you weren’t special
But you slowed train tracks with your hands, and then brought them back again

I told everyone regrets get left behind in the hills of summer
But kissing someone new isn’t making the seasons go by
You were my favorite way of passing time

I can’t pretend anymore
I want to love again
Please hold my hand
I’ve been around a time or two
And no one gets me to feel like you

Every single time we go to your car to light up a cap or a bowl
that never leaves us with nothing, we can feel something, even if it’s just the stinging in our fingertips as we draw ships and cats
on the windows, convinced we could make masterpieces
if we really wanted to. When we finally gather enough ambition to move inside, I sit on a couch somewhere and think about how my life
has led to a moment like this and I question every insecurity, every decision, and every conviction, but I just can’t get over how nice
it would be to taste cake or cream cheese bagels right now
and eventually we end up watching the same shows with the same people who make the same mistakes every single episode and it really does remind me of that video you showed
me with the disturbing sitcom theme song that never ended,
and that’s what this night is all about.

Disregard my silent replies, I’m listening,
I just keep staring in the mirror and wondering if lacquered eyes
and lazy expressions are what you think looks good
on me because whenever you look at me, I try to focus on your face before you kiss over my ribs and I take my socks off
because there’s safety in socks and maybe that’s why we feel
such a devastation when they can’t be found. I’ve lost mine in your
room and I think maybe that stands for something, but here’s the thing:
I just don’t understand why everything you do makes me so nervous.

My textbooks, propped between our knees,
I study how this became
our hot dates and the way I get to lean
on your chest makes me tingly,
shallow-breathed,
but I shift around
so you don’t feel my heart bumping in
between the stillness
of our bodies.

—stillness—

We lay in the same bed and actually sleep;
no squeezing fingers and searching
mouths, but at least our clothes stay on
and I don’t have to search for my nightgown
shoved under wrinkled
sheets, or worry
about ****** wrappers
stuck to my skin.

Finished with our club meetings
and fundraisers, we act like weekend
warriors, clinking bottles in half-lit
rooms, sliding around, laughing
in each other’s faces
and once we’ve smoked our stress
away, I place your hand
under the ruffles of my skirt and kiss
your neck, whispering
                                 I want you
Please touch me
                  I need you
but you put your lips
to my forehead, mumbling
that you’re tired and won’t keep it up
because you’re strung out
on Red Bull and Adderall, promising
we will tomorrow night.