when the tears overflow
shaking me to the core
hysteria, they call it
i don't realize that i am pulling my hair
until the strands are wrapped neatly around my fingers
and pulled from my face
mad woman syndrome i would have been diagnosed
if i lived in a different age
and i suppose its a fitting name
how else can i describe my world falling internally
white noise in the air
and flashes of lines clouding my vision
when i wake up and my voice has left
will i remember that i screamed

how can i be in love with someone who put me in the hospital
who told the entire world my deepest secret
tormented me for years
convinced me i was delusional
and broke my heart more times than counted

the sole reason for my fear of abandonment
pressured me to commit to something i didn't want
blamed me when it went wrong
yet still continues to fluctuate into my life.

the fact i still let you in speaks volumes of my
apparent hatred for myself

i often laugh about it with friends
how absurd some of the scenes can be
the bizarre and the taboo
even the funny ones at times
when we are young we are taught
of how *** is nothing but intimate
and serious (and deadly)
yet in this modern age,
we find sitting on a cone will do
or dressing as a spider and perusing your prey
is just the bee's knees

so you're sat in your car
dope coursing through your veins
or not, i neither know nor care
and you notice a girl across the road
ageless probably
all you know is she is built like a woman
and that is enough

so you roll down your window
smirk across at your friends
knowing glances shoot between you
"hey lady!" you roar
"give us your number then!"

so she ignores you
your masculinity scorned
ignorant rage replaces the dope
hurling abuse is all you know so you throw it
you also throw a can for good measure
how dare she ignore your compliments?

its underwhelming if im truly honest
you read about it
as if its some giant monster
immediately taking control
poor sad little girl staring out into sea
fragile tears cascading
no hope for survival
only the strong can survive
we bury the weak at dawn

its gradual
seeps in through my pore and never out
we move together as one
i barely notice it
and i guess that makes it more dangerous
things that were one-offs become habits
sleeping late, eating too much
forgetting to shower
im weak for letting it in so much
but i can't imagine life without it

although i often claim to miss you
let me make this clear
i would rather bring a sterling blade to my throat
or pop my eyes out with a spoon
and die all alone with no family or friends
than ever belong to you again

pity we live in a seaside town
because i can't stand the smell
of those cheaply made and over sugared things
3 pounds for a bag of six
and we'd sit and eat them
not all mind you,
the doughy texture would always become too much
and we'd admit defeat before one of us lays claim to them
i wince every time my friends plead to get some
and offer them around
because nothing on this green earth
could ever remind me more of you