i.
the taste of blood in my mouth is becoming a lot like the twinge in my ankle. it's my own fault, it used to concern myself and others. but i'm learning to live with it. i'm learning to adapt.

it's really not fair
those ocean eyes drag me down
into their whirlpools.

ii.
there are times when i want to smoke. nicotine rubbed into my fingertips. clutching my lungs until the day it lets go. that day will be the day the rest of me lets go with it. finished. done. better. sometimes i wish i was a habitual smoker. that can't possibly count as sin.

i used to defy
gravity like a full moon.
i'm dreaming once more.

iii.
you can leave. i'm saying this because i don't want you to, and i know you don't want to. but if you think i'm okay with diving into a land of "i don't ******* know"s, maybe i can convince you to stay.

i used to believe.
magic. love. nothing is real.
i'll break my own heart.

iv.
i'm gripping the rope that is the possibility of us us us us. us in america- everything is worse here, but i'm here, don't you want to be too? i'll be a girl. the perfect girl. short skirt, long jacket, and a mask of a face. full of unheard whispers, and sweet simple suggestions.

*i'll leave america.
i'll find you somewhere i'm not.
i'll be submissive.