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?