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May 2015
Like worms in the pit of
apples there are maggots
in the pit of my veins.

I am fossil fuel and
I'll run out eventually.
You can't depend on me.
   My skin is a monument
   and I am slowly chipping
   away.

Every lake is Elaura's
but they're still puddles
grass as tall as trees.
   Vines digging through
my cochlea, swishing the
liquid and I swear I
hear god coming.

The nineteenth you kissed
me. She was in your mind
all night and you stayed with
the man who declared me
"Mine."

My skin is crawling of nightmares.
and my eyes have spiderwebs
in them. Cobwebs of dead love
growing on my eyelashes.
   Don't expect me to cry.
   My tears are just dew
   on the grass above my
   grave.
     My tears are just acid
     rain decaying my memory.

The sharpie we swear
will stay decays under
my nails.

"I didn't try to **** myself."
    I'm out in four days.
"I was just ******."
    And these burns mean nothing.
I lie so often I don't know
what honesty means.
    I read it backwards
    spell it with an "A"
and now honesty just means
    a complicated puzzle and
    a kindergarten mind.

My veins are so twisted
I don't even know if they
pump blood right.

I don't really think I'm
alive.

He said he no longer knows
the person who wears my
mask of a face.
   The bones are ripping through,
   and I feel Jekyll coming out
   of Hyde.

I'll fall off cliffs and land
in lava before you work out
the knots of tree branches
in my joints.

   My tendons are worms
and my bones are cracked concrete
that you can't fix by pouring
more in me.

It tastes worse than brick
going into my lungs but I
stick it there
like a lock and moan
as it pierces my heart
and breaks a few ribs.
   Because it's smoke.
   I asked for the pain
   and enjoyed all three
   ****** of sharks puncturing
my arteries.
  
My heart is metal
but you still short
circuit
my mother board and
I swear this ship is
going down.

Let's make it the Titanic.
or maybe Romeo and Juliet.
Have people romanticize our
tragedy.

Then I'll smile through
my tears.
   Maybe we can bow during
   the standing ovation too.
I was really high when I wrote this too.
Astrid Ember
Written by
Astrid Ember  Up your ass
(Up your ass)   
492
       Camron Elliott, ryn and Ellie Shelley
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