I like,
the lipstick,
that stains,
your cigarettes.
And how,
you carry,
the scent,
of lavender,
and incense.
The imprints,
of your teeth,
are left on,
my heart,
after you,
took a bite,
last night.
Did you,
keep it?
Or trash it,
like all,
the rest?

I spit,
my tongue,
right out,
on the,
cold tile floor,
I couldn’t taste it.
You stared at me,
and it,
me,
it,
horrified,
practically disgusted.
“I thought,
that was gum,”
you said,
bewildered,
basically,
out of breath.
I would have,
answered,
but shrugged,
instead.

Do you,
think of,
me,
the way,
I,
think of,
you?
Because,
truth is,
I,
really don’t.
When the news says,
someone’s dead,
I look for,
your name,
instead.
Is that,
bad?
Possibly,
just sad?
It probably is,
but truth is,
I don’t care.
The scars you left,
wont wither,
until you taste,
the poison you,
hypocritically,
made for me.
Do you,
think of,
me,
the way,
I,
think of,
you?
Probably,
not.

My legs,
I can’t feel them.
Dear God,
I can’t move.
The devil,
put a curse,
on me.
He cracked,
my bones,
used them,
as forks,
and spoons.
I've become,
cutlery,
for Satan,
instead.

I hope,
you’re dead,
with little,
tiny maggots,
swimming,
in your,
head.
That’d be too,
easy,
like a fish,
off the hook.
I want you,
to be,
the worm,
wriggling,
for a sense of,
free.
I will,
dig you from,
the dirt,
you call,
home,
squish you,
under my,
converse.

Lips pursed,
blowing bubbles,
and placing kisses,
on the back of,
wrists,
that lay there,
bleeding.
A sick,
smile,
a smirking,
child,
breathes hot air,
against fogged windows,
drawing pictures,
of ******,
figures.
The world is all,
consuming,
trapping me behind,
bars,
bullet proof glass rooms,
it keeps me,
spinning.
I am twisting,
turning,
my stomach,
it keeps it churning,
dizzying,
I am losing,
no I’m,
winning.
Drink the liquor,
it drowns out,
the sound,
and keeps,
us swimming.
Nicotine laced,
smoking kisses,
it helps you,
pull the trigger.

I hear a voice
Screaching noise
Is it in or outside my head?
Is it mad?
Is it sad?
Is it my brain
Or my heart that's dead?

Well ill cut it out
Slice it up
Take it out to the back
To the streets
To the thugs
Pass it off as ****.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me now?

Ill shine my shoes
and get my coat
They'll never know
Ill be on top
Be a rock
Be the star of the show.

Am I experiencing reality yet?

Well this is what
Staying up til 5 am does
Ive got an itch that I cant scratch
Im covered in membrane and dust.

Sharpin my knife
Dont think twice
Ill disect the top layer
Take out the bad
Leave the good
But then there is
Nothing there
At all.

Try to put
It back in
But it doesn't fit
So ill serve it on a hot plate
Let you take it all in.

How's it taste?
Whats it like?
Don't ask the price.
Is it hot?
Does it burn?
Does it stick to your tounge?
You can't afford it anyway.
You cant afford it anyway.