If your mind is in the right place,
a wound that keeps dripping is just an annoyance.

Blood on my lips because I opened the beer bottle lighter style
with a cheap blue steal knife
that mistakenly snapped off the glass with the cap
and left edges that are sharper than they look.

I sipped anyway,
and now my top lip is bleeding like a geyser
but it doesn't hurt.

The only problem is someone else might see it and think I'm weird.
Which is the same **** problem as always,
except usually I don't actually bleed.

You fell in love with me I guess for who I was then
or so I'd like to think.
Because I breathed innocence and thought everything was holy enough
to be sacred and thought no black secrets
could be hidden under so many precious things.
You liked that I wasn't trying to grow up so fast,
that I was naive and simple.
It gave you clarity when you were dizzy
about who you were and who you wanted to be.
That's why you liked me.
Because I made you into the person you wanted to be.

But now I'm different.
I know that pretty things don't always sparkle and I understand
that just because you put guards up doesn't mean someone won't try to knock them down
and that doesn't mean you won't get hurt in the end.
I don't like Peter Pan even though we watched it 13 times because I've realized
how ****** the animation is and I don't appreciate
fairytales anymore.
I like to put my trust in other things than pixie dust.
But I didn't used to and you liked that about me,
it made you feel like you were living the childhood you never had or something
stupid and poetic that I would have said like that
when you were kissing my nose and holding my  hand
on your couch before 11 and stalling
on driving me home.

I don't like sitting in the passenger seat anymore because it reminds me
of how you'd look over at me like I was one of those
special girls in the stories or the epic loves that gods have that
can never be touched.
I used to think people could never be sick if they were happy enough,
but that's just not how things are.
Because here you are
lying in a hospital bed with pet scans and x rays that lit up like Christmas trees
and the doctors tests have told you terminal things
but you're expecting me to think it's okay.

It's not okay.
Here I am with mascara dried eyes and a cafeteria snack pack
and you're just smiling
stupidly at me because this is scary
and I've always been that fearless thing for you.
You're going to die and you're expecting me to just fill you up
with some fantasy,
seriously ignore reality,
and fly you away to a neverland that's only pretend.
You really expect me to just make believe so you can feel better?

Well I'm not that person anymore.
I don't weigh my life out in laughter and I don't bend backwards just to feel good
anymore.
I can't just sit here and tell you about what I had for breakfast
because that doesn't even amount to the fact
that maybe you won't even be here for that tomorrow.
I can't fill you with color just because you ask me that.
You're draining and you're losing and I've got nothing.
I've got nothing because I don't believe in all those childish things
you fell in love with me for
anymore.

I can't make you better just because I loved you once
and just because I'm here and it matters.
You're just in denial and yeah I'm not the same.
It's called change.

It doesn't matter what color you'd bleed if you'd cut yourself.
It doesn't matter what you did last Friday or what you've already got planned
for the weekend after that,
how much rage you're going to make with the best
of so called buddies,
or even how many times you came "this close" to almost dying.

But I fell for that **** because it was scary and because
it was everything I taught myself to never want in anything
that meant it could fill me
but I used you to feel full and not so empty and tempted
to engage myself in something that would worry my mother if she knew all the secrets.

It doesn't matter what you've done before and how good that makes you now
at what you tricked me into doing.
It doesn't matter how fast you talk or how many people
you can choose to falsely idolize because of a stereotype or a media buildup.

No one was ever crowned king because of self proclamation.
You have to earn a rule like that.

It doesn't matter, to you, who you hurt as long as you gain something when you get there.
And that was me, sadly, who you got in between some bad timing
and a little self loathing.
I just wanted to feel good and you let me do that in the most wrong,
disgusting, abusive way.
And it doesn't matter what people say to you in the morning,
how many high five's you get or how long it'll be remembered.

All that matters
is that when you're drunk at the creek on another "turnt up" night
of losing yourself in illusions your insecurities lead you to believe
you're thinking of me.
You're thinking of how good something so real like me could be
if you only gave up your blinded trust for one second so you could see
what you're turning into and what I guess I thought
you always could be.

Feliz love will soap
Cast away as if jigsaw's breath of fresh air
Granted me a space or two.
Fake it don't make it have it make it up
As though love is a conquered bathroom.
Washing faces of red plaid shirts
With undressed jazz
Lashes to lashes
Sink in your hair
Bathroom beats in my heart
Ceramic quartet
Hungover and tapped.

Washing my hands
Naked as a mannequin
The eyes of a faceless
Toothbrush.

Who knows if it’s easier to breathe through your mouth
or through your nose
but lately I’ve had trouble breathing at all.
It may have something to do with the fact that I keep going underwater,
but I can’t help it. I swear I’ve grown fins a few times.
Maybe I’m just meant to swim.

There’s no right or wrong color for your hair.
A man told me last week that I had too many secrets
and since then I’ve been trying to remember what they are,
but I just can’t.

When you give me butterfly kisses
I can see an iceberg in your eyes
and I wonder if it will ever melt, or if I’ll have to do it myself.
Remember
when you told me that you were different?
I asked you why
and you said it was because of me
or at least something I’d said.
I’ve never felt so powerful in my life.

I lost the feeling in my left pinky
when you told me to stop crying
it’s not that easy.
If I want to love someone I’ll do it all the way. There’s no
“in between.”
And besides helping me to forget easily,
you’ve shown me that things I thought were possible
are impossible.

I’ve been so disconnected; I hope you can forgive me.
I am asking a lot, and
I can grasp that, but
there are so many things I still need to tell you.
My mind’s flown off with a butterfly, so
what am I left with?

Once, I asked for directions when I knew where I was going
because there’s more than one way to be right.
I guess I was trying to teach myself a lesson that I already knew.

Sometimes life isn’t about living at all,
it’s about learning and teaching and still not knowing anything.

Its sick, I remember it

perfectly.

There was a moment in time when the fear let itself dissolve into my nostrils and her

hands laced in gauze gloves,
injured boxer,
beautiful daughter

and the light gleamed and glistened off of every glass plate,
fractals of xanax bliss flicking themselves on to a filthy rug

and the line thinned itself out,
the lines thickened as it thinned itself out

school busses found themselves in parking lots and
some found themselves sold to private owners and some

drove themselves to our madness.

Sad clown cries tears while he laughs
she gave us our pills for free.

and one morning her daughter awoke,

*third grade called her daughter to wake up early and dress herself for the occasion, as she was only in third grade and couldnt drive,

she went to wake her mother,

and the sad clown dried her tears on the executioners
pillow.

Fell Asleep With Too Many In Her

We spent a few weeks on our knees,
searching filthy rugs for fractals of xanax bliss.

One night I realized what I was doing.

Its sick.

I remember it perfectly.

I have at knack for falling for self-proclaimed *****
And they tend to be fond of me
Perhaps it's forgiveness they see in my face
Or that I don't try immediately to get between their legs
I don't want that kind of thing for free

Here's a phrase I often hear them say
"I think you're too good for me."
"I think we should just be friends."
And sometimes this is okay
But sometimes this is where it ends
I'm not always up to go through it again
Loving a girl who'd rather get ****** instead
"It's not that I don't like you, I'm just ****** up in the head."

I have a thing for girls who hurt themselves
And they take a liking to me
I kiss all their scars, and steal all their blades
Try to convince them of their supreme beauty
They often say that I should go away
"Just leave me alone here to die!"
But I just can't bear to think of their pain
If they only knew what I could see in their eyes

Sometimes I wonder if I'm not insane
If this isn't my own kind of masochism
Falling in love with the broken and used
Maybe this is my own form of self-abuse
But somebody's got to look after them