run your fingers over the thin skin of my insides
pull away your hand, see the blood, and wonder what you got yourself into.
Help me out? Cold as ice,
carve a notch in your bedpost as i cut your name into my thigh
Don't you know
you're just another stomach ache in the morning
another ten minutes of my chin on porcelain
another string of lost messages nobody will read until I've already forgotten why i felt rotten in the first place.
I'll blast music loud enough that my ears give up,
and i can rub myself two black eyes,
maybe if I cut my nerve endings into a bouquet
to give you
this magnetic pull I feel will take the rest of me with it.