Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2015
Accompanying the sheer blue dress, some earrings she found for 3$ at the thrift store.
Walking outside listening to the taps of her shoes, she gets in the car.
"Adjust mirror, adjust self. Hide your thoughts of immortality, this one's going for the punchline." The corners of her mouth itch, "scratch it until you seep red, scarlet like the lips you remember." She claws at her face, "rip the pieces of of of of of," repetition from the ugliness,"strip the dermis, drink the poison of your insides."
She was never fond of The Voice, but today ohhh today it can consume her in flames, melt and rot. "70 mph, no need to obey." Wheels roar loudly and smoke tastes so good, similar to the sound of creaking making her shake her head violently.
T-***** through the middle, sliced like a piece of cake.
"Haha!" Cheerful goodbyes!

THE VOICE IS STILL THERE.
Monique Matheson
Written by
Monique Matheson  30/F/Arizona
(30/F/Arizona)   
352
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems