she is self-destruction in a bottle. she
can make fire out of sweat,
feel thorns inside her bones, and
the importance of this is that, oh
baby, the river runs red. time to
kick the habit.

but she's a broken vessel, and she
still sees in black and white. so
her body is in overdrive.
fingers caress her ****** thighs
are you listening? because soon she's going
down. a dance with a devil.
her needle's clean, her tar is laced, and her
throat is sore-she has been drowning.

her parents never loved her. her
wrist became an answering machine. she
is cold- her fingers bruised.
traced the stretch marks on her hips she has never been
with. only this month did the
red turned to white.


and by the time she notices
she realizes it's too late and she
has already
made
a
line
on
the
mirror