if you knew all
you would worship

what I crammed inside that tainted tissue
and stitched into her stale skin
was rich

plump figure
lattice surface, etched in gold

noble of his cathedral
an equal divinity
she is

i'm so angry -
my face is pale,
an empty canvas
no artist
wanted to
draw in.

i want something.
fill the void between
sharpened teeth:
vomiting
coffee grinds
and blood
into the
pages of
my favorite
novel,

i destroy myself remembering
times where my glasses were still broken.
bed sheets always stained with spelt wine
as drunk lovers stumbling into my bed -
they lean the bottle into my small hands,
keeping the mattress wet.
the red is nothing
smothering all over me.

no one is looking this way.
hungry gods play with hot glue,
pressing eyes like wrought iron
into my nerves - tearing
the ends apart to justify the means,
as if i don't know people leave when
you're down to your last layer of skin.

the world i sleep in
tastes of fog water
and i can never
catch a breath
pushing every
-thing down
with old opened
*** to drag my
self to the sink:

     i splash
water onto my
   face.

who the **** is that?

feel the burning in your chest and enjoy it
the pain, the tightness, the lack of air
you deserve to choke on it
now, dont pretend like you care

sinful silly girl when will you learn
you create chaos wherever you go
you can never escape these burns
so dig in deeper, nice and slow

is self harm still self harm if its emotional?
and do you even know why you trigger yourself?
what a dumb baby *****
stop ******* asking for their help

**** in the horrors of your mind
that's it, breathe the hatred into your veins
inject yourself with your own lies
like an ****** addict just numb the pain

Everything I've ever loved
I've gripped by the neck,
feeling the air escape
slowly.

And when they go to eventually leave
I've held on, kicking and screaming
to their pant leg
Demanding an answer to the question of "Why?"
That I really never want to truthfully hear.

It is always: "I don't feel the same."

Normal is just a setting on the dryer.

There’s only so close to the edge you can stand until you fall off.
There’s only so much you can conceal with a smoke, a shrug, and a cough.

But if there's a god, he sure loves a trier.

With renewed vigor

A slip of the hip

The grip of the finger

I chuckle

I've gotten myself into a pickle, it seems.

For the first time in forever

I'm looking forward to basking in the sun

In the brilliance of something greater than all my dalliances

I'm feeling it now

Actual sunlight.

I look upon these manacles which I could so easily slip from

These bars that hold me prisoner

So welcome

I'm beginning to forget

The beauty about loss

You crave for sepia