im twisting through this harshness in all my bare-brained glory. ill come to terms with this before i burn this bridge and that i’ll live by; i’m throbbing on this curb,
i know i’m dying on this hill;

i am blessed in my heart and my soul and your
ridges in all their perfection. i’ve become obsessed with your pliability, can you twist your hips like that for me again? i want to attract the doves, your god can’t wait to absorb all my sorrow, and



my eyes give me away.

i swear i have

knives on my

waist and they’ll

cut if you

touch,

the solidity scares you,

why don’t you intimidate me?

i pay the price for this stale air, and savor the quiet: this humidity sticks to my shirt, coats the skin in my nose. i go over it in my head like i will say it, but i don’t, and i
still get a rise out of you. i can just hear your heartbeat over the air conditioning and lil *** vert and the ear damage. i am notorious for making homes out of nothing; a closet, a hospital cot, the floor of your bedroom. i shall only grow to fit my space and yet i realize too late that this is no home for me sober. ill get drunk and eat these ******* moths, i'll [CENSORED] and i won’t even see them.

i have your mind, i have it squishy and malleable in my small hands, i have your heart and all that other **** that fills you too. i have you and you know it. i have you and it keeps you up at night, it keeps you texting me and it keeps you in my palm, wrapped around my little finger til the circulation’s cut.

i like it ****** but i always seem to **** the wrong way. your clothes are on my floor but i ****** it the wrong way. you gave my **** back cause i ****** you the wrong way, i wanna **** this up the right way. i do this for a living, i’m living as an actress; i ***** better than i lie and i lie better than i breathe.

i am a liar and no one is spared,
not even my love. i twitch and convulse and i
pulse like a sore, kissing my bandage with tongue,
professing my worth without words.
you melt into me like youre partly at fault when you
know that my fault is my fault and not yours;
i bite like im tough.
you snap like you’re not.

I relish in my ripeness, fertility dripping from in between my thighs, I’m this unchaste ****** Mary, I am. I’ve been touched by far too many and it’s obvious, obviously. He can smell it on me because it lingers forever, they say that dogs can sense the *** on you.

how unholy is this fornication, the irony of it all is so invigorating.
the hunger alone is enough to fill me, yet the act is carried out effectively:

he makes me *** like he’s reading verses:
the movements committed to memory.

i.  its feeding off my body,
    the emotions turned to physical symptoms: i feel sadness like an
    ache in my stomach. i feel loneliness in my chest.
    my whole body is a callus.
          (how many bruises do you have?)
    im jealous cause i want you and it makes you want me more.
    i get high cause i love you and it makes me wanna puke.
                                                           ­                  i'll bite all your nails off.
    *******, just **** me already cause it makes you want me more
    and you need that security. its a give and
    take, mutual reconciliation,
    symbiosis.

ii.       i never fall for the body count, this **** means nothing to me.
          **** your blunt, that's my blunt now. i think i have control.
          
          so, *******, that's my blunt, that's my
          bad. you can do whatever you want to me; my pride isn't at
          stake, that's someone else's problem now. i have nothing so i
          have nothing to lose, we both know that i only came to
          smoke and you only invited me because
          i'm fresh meat. it's a give and take, supply and demand,
          symbiosis.

i want that tall grass field,
i want that summer shine, the drone of the cicadas,
i want it all. i want that all for me.
i need to stop ending up in the hospital.

she said, the next time you try to leave i wont call the police.
she said, the next time you walk out on me i wont bother finding you.

he lost it. he lost it and she told him so, he said he felt responsible. maybe you are. maybe i am. but i ended up in the hospital again and

the little ******* my bus watched me sobbing on a stretcher from her window.

this one boy i know still lights his squares in his hand, still thinks two cigarettes in a day is too many, doesn't quite yet know the constant throat-burn borne from all that puking, but he still knows that

flying too close to the sun will melt you like chewing gum.

i want that tall grass itch,
i want that on my bare feet.