The icy sting shocks me into consciousness,
and the water weighs heavy on my lashes.
I blink away the soft blurred white
and the sink is bleached and
clinical as the water rushes
over it's slick, porcelain skin.
The coolness traces the blood-rush red
of my crippled fingers, and slowly, I crumble.

It's like stumbling through a fog:
I'm reaching desperately for anything,
but you can't hold on
when all you have is broken dreams
that collapse between your fingers.

The only time I feel human
is when my clothes are lying
on your floor.

Everybody wants to fall in love.

I just want to fall in love with you.

I cannot endure
this loveless
existence.

Nothing else can consume me
so completely, so terribly,
as our excruciating, infinite love.

Nobody wants to be with a girl
who sits up late at night in her room
dissecting disposable razors with her fingernails
just so she can feel.