my lips are sewn shut
with a rusty needle and
your hair--
the sharp twine that keeps me from spilling open.
(contents under great pressure).
what would happen if I did?
hair can burn and shrivel
the caustic ash from a cigarette
and the prying of my small fingers.
but if I were to open wide
there would be no sound
Just rivets of tar and streaky blood ocean
and the seeds from the strawberry patch.
stuck in this glass box with no drain
I become the girl in the well
the whore of babylon
judas' kiss.
i guess I'll finally get what you said I deserve