she ripped a hole in her socks every day, maybe just to feel the thorns and let her legs bleed / that kind of lovelyblindingfrightening thing that you want to run your fingers through, tug on her hair just to feel the resistance / you ask her what it means to be a constructed girl and she says ‘convict yourself of ****** and you’re halfway there’ / in the dirt, tearing out flowers like a lonely god in the universe - she’s bruised, and soft and waiting

I am finally starting to understand winter nights for what they are:
sterility of a black sky, inner warmth that never quite touches skin, shivering on the side of the road after tequila and laughter have laid waste to four AM and it is only the traffic lights left to reflect you.

Maybe that's why we listen to the downbeats of summer, the slow songs made for rooftops but more devastating in the pitch dark of seven PM on a main road somewhere in the city, all alone and au revoir and sepia memories of honey-warm light leaking through the kitchen we used to share.

internal warmth and windchimes outside sing hellfire for the passing storm.

the superficial makes my soul, shopping until the mall closes
honey i got broken eyes in these sweat filled nights for sure
and people order everything online, ******* to food
and i love to say i want all the attention when it comes
like to stay with my twelve pierced ears on these starred streets
people made of plastic and the fat people get shamed, i live
in a house that somebody else pays for and i say i love him
every once in awhile, i fall apart and he can buy things to fix me
and that's just what i hate and love about me
i fall apart and maybe that's what i deserve

me with your
thick and hard
words