my whole life
I've only ever been
someone's bad habit. 

like stealing drags
behind the library,
or biting broken nails
numb,
I became their drug in choosing.

pretty lips,
and a ***** secret;
a harrowing existence,
meets feverish addiction.

their idea of killing time
was killing me
and this is what I called love.

I guess I have a thing
for
       homicide.

-k.m.