As my lungs crinkle and deflate into themselves,
I'm reminded that breathing is easy
I just **** at it.

I hear Lou Dog bark- good dog- and hope he's still out there, biting pornstars because for sure, not all Rastafarian dogs go to heaven. The music's down here.

But you're just the most boring cliche with a pretty face.
And I'm still surprised you're on this side of the dirt.
What a conscience you have.

(Huh?)

Gonna get a dog
Name him Adderral
Hope he doesn't run away
That mangy mutt
Stay, boy, stay

I was born to love people too much
I resist telling them what I want
This is not how people should exist  

Come back here boy,
I haven't finished crying to you
Just yet

(Mouthwash, shaken up in the kitchen cabinet and lunch for two.)

I bottled every bit of sorry you gave me, even if the sentiment wasn't there and nothing you ever told me about the knives I took from you was true.
How could you take my sense of safety? How could you rob me of my intuition? How could you choke the life out of me?
You didn't have hands, not even claws, you had jaws the size of Arizona and a tongue so arid the flies didn't think to find the leftover bits of corpses in between your teeth.
Give me the truth.
What's wrong with you?

I just want you to once imagine, without ink on your skin, without the superficial cuts on your wrists, every lie you ever told to be more like everyone else, different, I want you to imagine the color of my eyes.

(You stripped me of my happiness, turpentine. Jail breaker. Head nodder. You erased my chances. Hope is the sunset. Hope is the sunset.)

If you're so broken, why don't you find the bottle opener, cupcake?
Why don't you lick the frosting off the bottom of the bowl, stoner?
When you say you're just pitiful, I see rain puddles drooling from the pockmarks of your cheeks.
I wish you'd realize that the sun isn't just shining out of my broken skin knuckles.

I'm a chemist too, Walter. Don't believe me? Just take a look at my blood. This iron, albuterol sulfate, acetaminophen, all this? I did it.

Don't force my hand, sweetheart.
Don't bite the poet that feeds.
Don't lick the flames that keep that rage you have going, you'll lose your identity.
Don't make your mother scream if you don't want to count bruises.
Don't be too soft, child.
Don't be too ugly, boy/girl/parasite.

Your God's a lion, recently fed, drowsy.*

I wish you'd believe me when I say I'm sick, Dad. My tongue's falling out.

2 a.m. The most rotten noise you can imagine.

I'm sick of you, baby.

Yeah? So, I know, God. God, what a name to have in this household. You're the only one with wings, the only one heaven sings for. It must be nice to look like something worth saving and brushing off and eating whole. It must be real tough to be so magnificent, always having to figure out who left which lipstick print on your shoes.

That's beside the point. Here, we're watching the movie of the life you could've lived. The one without guilt pin pricking your fingertips when you close your eyes. The one without whiskey bottle music combo, glass break handshake with death, mother without tear streaked face, father without closed fist, family without empty, love without "please don't leave", what a show, kid. What a way to be.

Father's sneer.

**** yourself.

Find sister's Oxy. Weakness.

Off topic.

I bathe myself in crystal ****, shimmering, lovely shades of nothing. I eat myself out of my walls. I tie my limbs into knots, look at my palms and see someone's blood, I can't taste who's, I spend the rest of the night obsessed. I have a dream about my boyfriend, he has no scars, he has no body, he is just eyelashes and whimpering. I can still see him. I swat a dozen flies until my grandmother reincarnated falls to the ground, telling me it's alright.

Tell me, what's the secret to being so light? Is it dropping all your insides at Love's front door? Tell me, how do I get over the rainbow from here?