If we were given the option to cut ourselves open and put back all of the guts we’ve spilled out for other people, I wonder how many of us would actually do it

How many of us must be content with waking up inside of someone else’s skin and claiming it to be our own

I never really learned how to sleep easily, for as long as I can remember I’ve been kept awake every night by whatever skeletons show up in my closet,
And that’s why I threw away my night light,
Smashed it

I was seven years old when I first saw the fire

I remember vividly hearing my mother’s preacher tell me that I should keep my heavens tilted towards the ceiling,
I knew then that church was no place for an honest and forgiving man

There will always be something that could fall through the floorboards at any minute

And when it all came crashing down I could feel my hair start to shed itself into shards of glass,
The pieces eclipsing mirrors through the smoke in my basement

The spark was born in flames and there is no doubt in my mind that it will go out the same way

I’ve gotten off to people telling me they’re in love with me and I became so obsessed with the feeling that I would grow my wings out and claim myself to be a guardian angel

And I am realizing now that there is no heaven in the ceiling and my guardian angels are nymphomaniacs only out to devour what little is left of me