load your gun
with a nice shiny bullet-
finger on the trigger,
be ready to pull it.
make sure the barrel
is aimed at my head,
then force me to eat
that hot molten lead.
paint my brains
all over the wall,
see my knees buckle-
watch as I fall.
my lifeless body
then covered in red...
told you that I'd be
better off dead!

red roses
and tulips
petals
in your hair
lips
on mine
a day
like this
something
in the air
fingers
on my waist
sweet
cherry taste
this love
of mine
bound
by crimson twine
blood drips
from tiny ******
sharp thorns
with ruby tips

Vestal white roses,
Shed their serrated surface,
Then tainted in red.

The truth is
what once was yellow brick road
is now red from blood
blotched by dirt
and partly
covered in moss

I see no purpose nor hope
in following this particular road
that leads me back to a place
so called 'home'

It's rather unpromising
and untempting
unwelcoming even
And it makes me think;

At the end of the road,
will I be left to rot
by the people who once swore
that I will be loved
but would leave me standing
forsaken and starving
like they used to do

And so I'd rather stay in Oz
Then to follow the 'yellow brick road'
To get to a place where
I were to be ignored

I hit the kitchen floor
With a soft thud
Suddenly, I taste the blood flavor
Of the pool that runs over my forehead.

He is right over me
The eyes I felt in love surround me
They make me fear in
And like a frail baby I start trembling.

I lost my regard
Lightning a cigarette
It tastes like your lips, vicious.

Breathing my last air
While I have you in my head
And a demon over my shoulder.

Everything you own is covered in blood.
     They arrive on moments composed of crumpled paper, tired and degraded by the heat and pressure of God's palm, left in Her pocket too long. ******* and apathetic inaction meet in the center of the sheet where your pelvis, your s e x rests while you sleep and lie and lie and sleep and sleep and lie. A Rorschach blot card where you see the death of dignity. Mother, Roommate, and Tinder Dates that you never bring home see everything that they had hoped you weren't.

     Cochina. Pig, ******* pig.

     And I can't read that last verse out loud. That tells you everything you need to know.

Everything you own is covered in blood.
     You bleed when you don't feel enough, or when what you feel isn't what you ought to feel--silly ******* scholarship with the brains and the championed cheek bones (if you just lost the weight, she says to herself sometimes, and her friends don't agree, but there is a deafening lack of disagreement that takes the room).

     Bold girl who never made suicide jokes because she was so so so good at this game called self love until she wasn't. Until she ran out of bad ***** juice. Until she felt the weight of it, the world.

     And so you choose to feel the bite of an exacto knife.

Reliable, that.
Pleasurable, that.
Guilty, guilty pleasure.
Shameful pleasure.

     We were supposed to be grown up, glowed up. Above this.

                                                  **** this.

     When did it become so hard to love yourself?

as long as you say i love you
pouring rain in the afternoon
i will believe you
just because i want to be broken
and when you left me alone in the dark
i will destroy myself
in a room full of dust and tear
my sweet blood
my numb soul
my wounded body
gonna haunt you