the same girl you’ve always known?
well i guess i haven’t grown.

you’d love to consider me manic
bipolar
demented
crazy
crazy
ex
girlfriend

the truth is that i was too much for you
and when you realized im just too much for you
it was not my excess but your deficit
a gaping hole thats only grown
so fill
fill
fill
and empty yourself into
empty
empty
empty
lonely, lonely hearts

did it to myself
i saw your potential
without seein credentials
maybe thats the issue
baby thats the issue
can’t hold that **** against you
guess i did it
to
my
self

be
cause you were somebody else
you

I have come to cherish the lucky-dice nights when the Adderall just lingers, staying late—
much later
than times of near-lethal lethargy
that leads to interrupted comatose slumber

I’ve allied with the recurring habits of winning Most Sober of the Evening, for in my solace, I’m dropping the needle, dancing to Molly's Lips and kicking off damp, muddy socks

I feel somewhere—-myself,
a place you
may
have touched and try to burn a placebo curvature along a place you
may
once have ignited,
your artificial fingertips,
and trace the beginning of a word, but
I lose track where ever the middle
may
have been

Needle scratch, loop, stuck in one, or
many
grooves

Try to exhaust the corporeal, sway,
fall,
slam body against the wall

Memorialize yourself so no one has to,
Your storage-unit temple drinking from a dark green bottle

Shimmy with a crowbar, lift and uncover,
Toss it all in a trash pile
For God to rediscover

i see you every day
what happens next
lover of the past meets present mistake
meets future mistake
meets the past

comfort
in
biology

permanent home, temporary lust
chosen eviction
beg me to stay
i beg for the mistake
get the taste
get the itch
keep the light on
i'll get the bill

is it **** for you to
think you've been burned
think it was your new chapter
your chance at a New York Times Best Seller

to make a villain of me
to make me operate
play doctor
dissect and cut open every part of me,
to look for a corruption, an ulcer, a cancer,

that you'd fabricated?

i keep waiting for you to send me a new photo
maybe one you curated of a thousand images, people that are now ghosts

i know my messages won’t ever get delivered
but if i could say one thing it would be that i’d be there on the other side
and that you can be as strong or weak as you need there
and that the light will be all around and the beginning and end will no longer be a statement piece, it will be in our hands

i know that you are becoming a ghost now and i’ll sleep next to my lover, wishing i were healed
but in your memory i am complete
i know what youre looking for, but you’re complete.

rest now.

#fuckheroin