melt your shoes and
drink the rubber
chase it with
some honey.

kneel in church and
rearrange
the stained glass
with your head.

cut your hair and
pull your teeth
a smile made
of ***** rocks.

twist your tongue and
tie it back
a cigarette
stuck in your throat.

dip your feet in
rusty nails and
fill your socks with
peanut butter.

get lost in
the empty space
between your ribs
and your ears.

go upside down and
back in time
to when you
still had shoes.

another 4 a.m.
head full of dust from
coming undone
again.

empty face
heavy in the mirror
again.
wishing to be
nothing,
wanting to be
art.

ivory and lilac,
tell me to be sweet,
'I miss you' means
nothing
to me.

another 4 a.m.
skull covered in mold from
leaking like it always
does.

green it tells me
to be sorry.

when my ribs are cold
and the streets asleep
and I am empty,
I know how the moon loves me.

when my hands are dust
and the lights are moths
and I am lonely,
I know how the moon cried for me.

when my lungs are bones
and the windows dead
and I am sorry,
I know how the moon made the stars for me.

when my eyes are fog
and the owls grieving
and I am unlovable,
I know how the moon loves me.

you ask me how
I can stay here.
I do not mind
the ***** streets.
you tell me why
I should leave this place.
I like the trees
that are empty year round.
these foreclosed buildings
and bare mattresses.
plastic bags and
cardboard signs.
you ask how could I like
a town like this.

here is just like
the inside of my head.
I like rust
because it is what
I am made of.

your hands don't look like
hands anymore.
even the dirt under
your fingernails
hates you.
your skin melts to dust
every time you think.
scabs on your fingers
from when you decided
you didn't want
fingers anymore.
you can still smell
your rotting bone.
rip off your fingernails
you never should have had
any anyways.
take them and slice your
palm, put a hand print
on the stone, an oath
that someday you'll
be better.
even the dirt under
your filthy skin
hurts you.

you swallow the bones of
everyone you've ever
loved, you chase it
with the pity that
sits so deep in
your gut, mirror
mirror on the wall,
who hates themself most
of all.

empathy slips through
your jagged little
fingers, yet guilt and
self loathing make you
cry for yourself, don't
mind your son he
never needed you
anyways.

you sit in the bath
tub, knees pulled to
your vinegar chest, skin
worn off and calloused from
kneeling on red
carpet, head bowed and
hands clasped, begging
please give me some
thing else to be
sorry for.

don't pray for your
son, he never needed
you,
anyways.

pull off every scale
put each on your tongue
let it dissolve with
the hate on
your lips.

once when I was
less than your fingers
a snake got closer
than your hands.
my mother raised a stick
higher than your chest
and I looked away until
the snake's eyes didn't
look like yours anymore.

twist every rib
around your spineless finger
let it come undone with
the whispers on
your tongue.

I'll look away until
I don't know
your eyes
anymore.