It is cherry blossom season
the white dust is settling into
petals decorated with boot prints.

Spring brings nothing new.
The same old worn out truths,
my doubt in all of you

lingers as clear as distilled water
pure and bitter as Russian *****
no matter how much I love someone

trusting them is not an option.
This is not a crisis of faith,
it is Springtime again, as it always will be.

Reliably.
The seasons never change.
They will never disappoint

so triumphantly.
I dug the grave, my friends
just threw the dirt to cover me.

****, ****, ****.
Sometimes my brain kind of seizes
like it needs to be oiled.
Like it's rusty and old
and out of new tricks.

My body is cellulite
and broken bleached hair, flaking nails
and dry spotty skin.
You, on the other hand
are just ******* breathtaking.

******* breathtaking, boy.
When you round the corner
my face goes red
and burns like fire.
The butterflies kick off

like a starting pistol woke them.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm pregnant
the kicking is so powerful
and I am so **** fat.
Whereas you on the other hand,

are ******* breathtaking, boy.
I'll give you that.
When I fell asleep in your arms
I wonder if you stayed awake
and studied my worn out face

the same way I watch your walk
watch how your lips move
when you talk
how your hips move when you
fill me with joy and use me.

******* breathtaking boy.

If I could only dream of blissfulness.
Oblivion and oddity riddle my sleeping mind
and my closed eyes make
hallucinations
which never seem to fade.
The shutters open, mother draws the curtains
but still the shadows dart beneath the bookcase.

We drank myself into an unbreakable stupor
and just a year since I vowed to feel nothing in extreme,
I could not cry if I tried.

And trust me, I try.
But things change, I've changed. While all you remain
and wonder why I'm throwing my life away.

I only breathe when I sing,
feel the rain on my skin and the warmth of the sun
and
with your fingers through my hair I am happy again.

But love or fear is not an option.
Only eventual dreamless death.

In fifty years, all my land
Might be swallowed whole by the glorious ocean
By means of erosion.
See? I do learn things in that concrete prison,
Where they raise concrete children, in a plaster mould
To fit their vision. Aren't I rebellious.

Tell me I'm brilliant, I am the future!
I am all you people's pensions, I choose your nursing home
Give me your money.
I am your investment. If I spend it on *******
That's your risk factor right there. No insurance policies dear.
I am reckless. Aren't I fabulous.

In fifty years, my nasal septum
Could be eroded by means of class A narcotics.
But there's always rhinoplasty.
And I'll be married to a big fat banker,
With comprehensive cover on all of my dreams
I'll divorce him for millions. Ingenious.

I'll be a plastic hollow Barbie,
Dripping with diamonds. I will be everything
That I ever stood against. Sitting
perched between ******* delicately
The fat rich men will take drags on me
Until I am ashes. Old nicotine.