something along the lines of
  you'll leave me,
  won't you?
  is what i say to you

  which is
  unsurprising,
  given the circumstances for which
  this idea seems so completely
  appealing to me

(you'll leave me,
won't you?
you'll leave me,
eventually,
blah blah blah,
if you leave me
i'll **** myself,
blah blah blah

is it all the same
to you? do you think i
say this ****
for fun?)

how *******
blasphemous,
this idea that's so
absurd
to you;
do you so
constantly have your
head
up your *** or is it just me?
oh, wait, no

  i don't know
  what you want me to say

  do you want me
  to agree with you?
  you?
  you, of all people?

i got out of bed
  and all that was
  in my head was
  venom

  and all i could think of
  was breaking your
  phones

  so you couldn't call
  anyone,
  so you'd be
  isolated
  too

  so grandpa wouldn't
  know
  the inside of my brain
  so intimately

  because you don't
  shut up
  because i don't have
  any privacy
  because i am your
  pity party
  (because i'm crazy)

  so you'd have a
  reason
  to hate me

  (that was
  something i could
  control)

  but now
  all i can think of
  is the
  *******
  fear of
  abandonment

  and how all i do
  is sleep
  and spend two hours
  in the bathroom
  standing there
  eavesdropping
  staring at the wall
  wishing i was dead
  (wishing you were
  dead, too)

  and i want to
  break my hands
  (so i couldn't do it)

  and i want to
  break your phones
  (because you would
  hit me
  again, and i am
  scared
  you'll never stop)

sometimes
  i am afraid
  to wake up
  and find
  i am alone

  that
  while i was sleeping,
  they left

  that
  while i was sleeping,
  they ate my dog
  and left the
  mess
  for me

  (i don't need
  your love;
  i don't need
  your guidance:
  i can
  think for myself
  but it is
  painful,
  and
  i wish you would
  listen)

okay, but, bear with me here: if i stuck my hands in my mouth i wouldn’t be able to stop going. i’m quite sure i’d devour myself. it’s not romantic or pretty but in my head it’s the only way to quiet those ******* thoughts.

they’re eating me alive, and they forgot to chew.

(okay, but, bear with me here: they’re eating me alive. they didn’t even bring a fork or set down a handkerchief, and they’re talking with their mouths open, laughing about this one old lady they punched in the street. they’re real *****. they’re real pieces of work.)

hey, hey, hey, getting malevolent up in here; mind your ******* manners.

language, language, language, getting violent up in here, mind your ******* manners.

what’s it matter, what’s it matter? where was i obligated to be good? why do i ******* care? i’ll be dead soon. i’ll be dead soon. such a stupid thing to care about, such a useless thing. i’ll be dead soon.

(take your elbows off the table, shut your ******* mouth; you are a guest in the house that is my brain. push your chair in when you stand up, please.)

i know i must have
must be
from mars, must have
must be
must have come from
somewhere
special,
better, but decaying
and rotten, and upset:
this big angry
black 'i don't remember'
this big angry
white emptiness,
this big angry
'i don't remember'
this
'what and
who
are you?'

(i came from the
swamp,
i came from the
sky, i came from
the air, from the
fire:
i am everything
that people
aren't,
my teeth are
more like fangs)

i know there's
humanity,
somewhere
in my bones

i know i have
a home,
i know i have
a name
and a face,
but i can't
remember
what it is

(i am a
banshee,
i'm *******
screaming
and
somebody's
gonna die,
tonight)