i swallowed the bathroom mirror whole threw an entire bag of lemon drops into the highway and danced on someone else's grave in a failed attempt at self-acceptance.
it's hard to shatter the saccharine sweet taste of personal hate sticking to my hands like half melted wax.
i've almost given myself permission to fail but not yet.
hasn't it been stovetop memories a couple haircuts and one hell of a year?
scratch the back of my neck in a halfhearted attempt to forget and i'll take up burning aluminum pillows like i took up loving myself.