it’s all ******. all of this.
drinking till we can’t remember our names,
making out with your lover’s best friend,
choking on each other’s smoke.
we’re chugging rubbing alcohol and it’s tearing up our throats
until they’re as raw as the bleeding skin of our knees.
the roadside gravel is stuck in our red palms
as we roll around, screaming nonsense.
nothing feels right.
no pill can slow our heartbeats bursting through our artificial veins.
we’re slicing and bruising our bodies,
treating them like rotten fruit.
any diamond wedged in our pores has been crushed between headaches.
it’s sick, it’s ******, i can’t feel my lips,
god, how did i end up in another parking lot at the break of dawn?