What do I do when the only person I care about
Doesn't know I exist
And is almost three times my age, anyway

And what am I to do when I'm only sixteen
And I'm not pregnant
So I couldn't possibly have any "real" problems

What am I supposed to do when I've run out of words
To say or write
And the ones I used to say and write were never really all that good in the first place

And what's next when I don't really feel like being alive
But then again
I don't want necessarily to be dead either

Wake me up
I don't care how you do it
Or how dire the consequences

Kiss me
Shake me
Stab me

I promise I don't mind
Just please
Wake me up

and the color ate away at the darkness

but she just remedied it

by placing a monochromatic filter on the world

the clocks are striking infinity
and
melting
towards eternity
like a Salvador Dalian conspiracy

If I were poetically eloquent enough,
I might spout some poignancy
About how her presence
Breathes hues of love
And life
Into my cadaverous cheeks

Or if I were less scatter-brained,
I might muster up some cliched profundity
Comparing her irises to pale twilight

And I might throw in some alliteration about her electrifying elbows
Or something abstract along those lines
Just for good measure

But...
Since I'm just
Little ole typical me,
Maybe I'll just say

That
I like her...
Quite a fuffing bit

**** these acid tears for staining my face,
Carving rivulets of bare, scarred skin into my made-up veneer,
Exposing my raw flesh,
Betraying my stoic exterior,
And calling me out on my *******