Sunkissed and messy headed
Blessed be that fashion sense
Her tangled mane is a metaphor, a facet
To her mangled brain
Not in the cute black-and-white, scrawled notecard manner
A carved-out, paper cut of a sheet
Crammed in the bottom of her bottle brained backpack

Worse than the weekly
Chic self-harmed hipbones,
She sits and eats and watches the world from the real world clones
The blanket's just hot enough to cook her down
Reduced to the ruched Jovani gown

She's got lists of friends, you have to
Scroll down a page
It even has to load awhile
Then why's your radius clear of anyone?
Pixelated fixtures of her mind, too close to miss her
Too close to care
So close, all they are's aware

Minds drone, like bone picking
Knowing you're the stick in the mud
Warm blood behind a boil, just kicking for
Another tab to click in

She's been braless awhile now
Profiled with purchases levels lapping her current state
She pinches skin impatiently, chocolate scouring her teeth
It's the bitter taste of something so horribly surface
They erase away the beneath.