i dream of the end of the world
the only place i find solitude
time for myself is when
i am getting a tattoo
and bleeding myself dry
with ink in my veins
my life is cracking at the edges
and crumpling at the core
and i am not so sure who i am
while sit in solitude in my basement
and drink myself sober
while i put out a cigarette on my arm
because the smoke in my lungs
isnt killing me fast enough
while my friends do nothing
but make sure i go comfortably
to an early grave
while i remember the backrub you gave me
and how you laid in his arms
while i eat a bag of beef jerky
even though im a vegetarian
and the taste of blood in my mouth
makes me sick to my stomach
yet i keep eating because
something had to die
while i try to write this suicide note
with all the eloquence of a poem
and cry for help in the smallest voice
all the while knowing that
i will just ***** our in the end
and end up with one more scar
of many that are there or not
but they all ghost on my soul
shame
i dream of the end of the world

i go into my workshop
and surround myself
with teeny tiny tools
and put on goggles
that magnify my hand
until it looks like it belongs
on a giant, not a tiny girl

i turn on bright lights
that illuminate a blank
surface, that i've imagined
is covered in things that
must be fixed,
and i pick and i ****
and i poke and i position
until there's nothing left,
though i can't be too sad
since i started out with
nothing in the first place

i wish i could figure out
whether i've thought this
up or if it's real, but the fact
remains, that i am being
haunted by something i can't
grasp or understand

i wish your lips would move
when i see you in my sleep

Are you like        And though
The last one?     Your lips were
I wonder & worry     Very clumsy
If you'll be right,      And fumbled like
Right for me,        I actually made you
At least.          Nervous. You! Nervous!
You were cute,     Ha! What a silly
When you asked     Thought, But, I could
If I needed a      Feel the heat, I didn't
Goodnight kiss.     Mind your fumble
Then I asked      I knew it was sincere, the
If you thought     Thought behind it,
I did.           I touch my lips now,
And you replied     Thinking of it.
I think you do.     And, boy, I haven't
Which was oh,   Touched my lips
So very clever, you       From a kiss
Clever boy.      In a very long time.

don't think for a second that ******* upside down doesn't count, because it ******* does. rough cheeks in mean hands, sneering lips that linger on a sickly smooth neck that's been trying to hang itself for an eternity. you are my guiltiest pleasure, i scream so loudly that i'm sure the entire west side is eating up the dirt from beneath my toenails. ****, we both wear it well. beauty means less and less everyday, and i miss it from the bottom of my ******* to the neurons that **** around in my ****** up skull. i count freckles because it's the only thing i can do and you ask me to rip you open and i can't remember where i left off so i decide we'd better just ****. when did i get off the bus? i'm sure this isn't my stop, but i've been sitting on my hands so long that i'm not entirely sure if they're there, or just numb. you make them move, to cut off the oxygen and blood flow so that you sigh deep and long with me beneath you. foolish of you to throw away your last remaining breath, so foolish that i smile wide. i am nothing if not evil, ripped from eve's flesh and bones. you tell me i can't have him because i'll ruin him, but the truth is, i'm already in ruins. millions of years ago, i was something to behold, but now people walk within me and feel a strange heaviness because they desperately want to see what they've missed. there is no rewind button on the remote, just fast forward and forward and forward and forward and forward. don't ******* look back.