my humour blinds me. it blinds me.
it tears me eyes out and scares me
it pushes me over and hangs me
my brainstem a noose, my eyes, a prize

and i will hang there, hot drips down
it warms me, it softens the ice
it tastes sweet, just like my fathers
it looks neat, just like my mother

just like her handwriting as she signs the paper
as she signs me away
just as her grip on my throat
just as she suffocates me

just as she'll give mouth to mouth, she wants me alive
she places her lips on mine and mauls them off
perhaps now i'll stay pure, i'll stay hers
i would look at the mirror across the hall at me
a red lip's for a harlot, she says. she's made mine ruby

its neat
how deep i'll carve my name on my chest
afraid i'll look at the mirror across the hall
and not recognize her at all
i'll play my nerves to the tune of misery

maybe ill glance down the hall and see her smile back
maybe i'll hate her, maybe i'l get on all fours and pounce
an animalistic rush, a rush nonetheless
maybe i'll tear out her eyes, maybe i'll take her soul

regardless what i do, i will feel warm
its that warmth i crave, the tides shift and the moon breezes
the dawn sets and im cold. and i freeze, shards of me snap off
i hold them close, i fear i will lose them

maybe they should be lost
perhaps i should melt them
make stained glass of my essence,
use it to bind my bedroom window

and maybe i should toss them over the edge, the ashes of my youth following suit
maybe i should pack them up in twine and parchment
maybe i'll hold them in my palm, knuckles white
i'll feel them slice through, i'll see crimson paint my nails
irregardless
i'll feel warm