I promise myself to never stop creating
To always dribble ink onto my flesh
My soggy wrists and tear ducts always open like my silly pegs

I look at the ladies before me
They are polished or they are cracked
Either way, people talk slander, meaty anger and ***** dribbles

I look at my sandwich
Whether it had meat or cheese or nothing at all
Either way, people would talk slander, slap a comment

I wonder if I could ever live bruiseless
I wonder if the only marks on my body would be my own
I wish my only mark on me was my henna

I've decided to make it very clear
I will never yearn for anyone's back
I will never smile for anyone but myself
I will never put my hands anywhere but for myself
A drink or two is my delight
Not my service to loosen into your mould, to be played with

Yet you see, here alas is my tragedy
I am free but I am caged by my own humanity
My human desires and cuddling yearns all across the ages of years

But even amidst the gloom and doom
I hope inside the cradle of my centre that a little angel girl with dreams
of solidarity and self-sufficiency
Could maybe one day read my words inside her entirety
Feel herself in these words of me
And see that I am her and she is me
I want you to learn from my example, not what they give me

I want to one day inspire a generation to think freely
Do for yourself but never once forget your personal responsibility
A balance of woes to create a life free of opulence and free of hate

One day, hopefully, one day
A little angel baby can look back to me and see
A way to move further and forward
A way to remain her fragility and live with her life hopefully.

Scattered around my body, lies the remains of a girl meant to be
Cascading over corpses,
Hope is a weathered, out-dated state of being
A serving, political and manner-driven
What's new?
New is the passion, the fight and the might
It matters not how much hope you have
Whether it busts through your seams and gleams in your eyes
It matters not how fast the blood rushes in your veins as you pray

Look at me, cold and vain
Eyes frozen, I begin again.

Pin point and plan
Sticks and stones and pots and pans.

Life is nothing but a learning curve

So I move on to new experiences and new lives,
A million eyes.

Never forget who you are.
Who you came from.
Where you were meant to be.
Fate is not a destiny
Life is made out of parentheses.

They take us down

They lift our soul

Embellishing the truth as though that is my only goal.

How I hate, a fragile heart

Timber and snow

Dead dead dead

My mighty life goes.

What happened to a life unburdened by the need

The need, the need, the need

I wish for one thing and one thing alone,

To not be faithful to the brim of a stone.

It’s my embrace you wish to know,
A man, a woman, a horse, an avalanche of show.
It’s adventure you wish to taste,
Well here I am, under your fresh fingertips,
Here I am, here I am.
You can grasp me into whatever you wish to escape,
and here I am, here I am.
Solid as the mind’s tricks. Here I am.

My papery embrace, I am so here, yet so far away.
Each movement I take, each time my euphoric world breaks,
Yes, yes, my paper embrace.
Rickety at best, I am so weak.
A rip of your fingers can suffocate me.
Crash! Crash! In the most gentle sound, my mind says,
It’s astounding how weak I am but how concrete my story is.
A single flame in a dark sea, or a fire enraging the seven seas.
It depends on how much you hold me.

Doe Eyes.
Oh, how I fear doe eyes!
Those **** azure, chameleon, black, coffee
Doe Eyes Doe Eyes Doe Eyes
Duh Eyes.

Shatter my centre
Realize your lies
The girl with doe eyes

Soft marshmellows
Cups of cream
Pink little miss
It's a hit they'll never miss.

OH, doe eyes, doe eyes, why?

Punishments of all
A dark mantle we revel

I fear the innocent
Untouched

Paper napkins
Easily crushed
Blood on velvet
Blood on cream
Ganache.
Tortured ****.

Edinburgh/London/New York/Vancouver await me.

I like secrets, because they keep me in line

What does a sail do when it is stuck at sea

At the mercy of those in his seat

What does a duckling do

When his mother is swept away

The tides of yesterday.

When I yearn for a connection

A true, genuine scrap of something

A finger, a hand, a cuddle

I can’t think of a single soul

A single soul

Who could comfort these dark monsters within the cradle of my centre.

I miss splendour, I miss thousands of genitals

I wish I could look into someone’s eyes

And see millions of moments, billions of words

All said, all touched, completely on exhibition for me, for us,

Mango leaves, dried trees

A true, genuine scrap of something

Love is an optical illusion

I find love at the bottom of my glass,

I find fear in an empty bed.

Worried sick

Horror lulled me into laze

Dazes, fades to grey

Ashes do not exist

Ashes do not exist

I am the ash of my own fingertips

I am the cigarette-kissed burns on my guns and roses.

Flesh, oh flesh

That is all that it is.

A first kiss.

Nothing gold can stay,
I'm a rigid mannequin with evolving feathers
Feather petals across my horizon
The earliest movements of heaven upon them

I'll never be able to waste away
But no one ever told me plastic decays.
Primped and primed
Who knows how I could come to be so divine?

I never loved but I have lost
My narcissism is on decline even while it is on the rise
Sunrise sunrise but what a surmise
Heaven comes to above but never flashes a light like a dove

My father is blessed be
I am a curse in a bundle of joy
I walk in contradictions and I puddle all day to cry
A lightning flash of a flutter of an eyelash

A millions a millions galore
I cannot live without a human heart
Despite the fact I sell all these shells I find on the raw shore.

Diamonds upon diamonds galore
My thirst set ablaze
My legs forever open
My heart a tiny cage

A precious girl
Unkempt hair and a messy soul
Walking in contradictions
Ablaze with fragmentation
Each pin ***** flattened and sewn

It may be a fragment but it is for sure
A dagger, the edged sword
I could be poison, I could be a *****
But in my brown eyes I am warm

A teddy bear but frightened
A lady but not by the shore
Tempted by spells
Burdened by lost promises and vindictive twirls

A pinch and a *****
Each day was a new month
Each spite was a new bite
Now I'm just a devil's delight.

I love the idea of a throne
But I sit on my own flesh
Decaying as I dig in
Vanity, eating my own cakes
Fattening my arteries
I truly am, if anything,
I am wholly gluttony.

(deleted)

If someone asked me if I regretted it, and I said I did...that it made things so difficult, hard to explain, contain...
I'd be lying.
Lying through my teeth, through my woes, through my checkered soles.
I miss your clumsy lips on me, lopsided with liquor as we stumbled along
the tattered college sheets.
It's been a month and I'm two steps back,
Trying to understand my life, my life as sudden as a heart attack.
You gave me your kisses, a little less than intended
I gave you my body but not my choices.
I want more, I wanted more but all before I wanted your friendship
We were/are friends unchained
Students with no purpose running astray
Your piercing and voice commanded to me
I called and you did but who would've thought we had the right chemistry?
I never loved someone more than you, in the way of pure intimacy and shoulder glance
It's been a month since our tryst in the sheets, hidden away in your tiny bed room with nothing but a laptop playing streams and a thick bed sheet
Skin on skin
We were mixed together as one, never been with someone my parents would love.
So bad so b a d
I loved your face and your voice
I loved your hands between my thighs
I loved your lips on my ear and neck
I loved feeling within you and in the middle of me
Knowing someone I somehow knew in all casual entirety
In the rain glimmers of dust
We talked and talked
*** was never a must.
That's why this is a surprise
Someone so dear to me could make me feel such a surmise
You're all I want but all a risk
I can't help but want you by my sheets
I fear a new day
A new day feeling still stuck in this way.

Everything is wrong about, not in sync, so dysfunctional, your hair reeks of pink
From the tips of your silly red shoes, to the very top of your dry, dreary head
I can't stand you, even the sight of you
Your beady hazel eyes that sink of flatness and superficiality
Only glinting when you mock humans galore,
Your voice needs to be beaten, your mouth sewn shut sore.
I can't stand you, even the sight of you
Your pathetic frame of 5'11'', acting as though you're a 6 foot beast
You have nothing to use to please.
I've seen your ****, there's not much there, besides pudgy ***** hair.
Pink little head and useless *******, desiring to stick it wherever
But never thinking about actions.
Silly, unnerving, a warped mind.
Have you ever looked in the mirror?
I may not be perfect and there may be more to eyes and spies,
But the way you speak forms a body so vapid and impure,
It surprises me you even think you're justified for little less, forget about more.
Vapid, shallow
Eyes carved by doughnuts and ******* sites
You want double Ds and hairless vulvas,
Aren't you reaching?
Pathetic.

Roughed up skin
Edges are granite; souls locked within.
They didn't like my roughed up, pale skin.

There was no hair creeping up my arm skins.
No chicken bones and unfortunate as it was
I apologise for my meaty thighs
The crippling weight of murderous eyes.

I feel I must apologise for my thick and thin shorts
I am the crippled master, of some sorts.

Poetry may heal
But medication never really helps?

Please don't hurt me
I swear I am true
My goddess shines bright
But through her, you see right through.

I am a goddess entwined with bullets
My veil is nothing but a leaf
"The poetry of the earth is never dead"

Yet I pollute, I pollute, I pollute.

I am a goddess, and so are you!
I apologise for that.

Please do not hurt me,
I swear I am true

My body is not a battlefield;
It is the very sign of you.

"One day, my baby, one day..."
Earphones blaring
Is anyone staring?

I'm looking and glaring
My life is a reflection
Different sensations
Forbidden temptations
In abundance, oh oh in abundance.

Late nights of foreplay
More days of who says
Paramore is punk rock
Nah, man--I'd hate to be that sanctimonious ***** but
**** my ****.
Para para para
A ground for me to stand on

As my heart continues to waver on to the pacific sea.
"Dope, shoot it up--straight to the heart please."

Yes, this is me--the girl with unkempt hair and a messy soul.
No cigarettes lit
No fathers hit.
Nirvana shirt crumpled for a Queen
Capris & Chicken Legs
Tattered flip flops
Hair more unkempt than ever.

You know what?
**** my ****, **** my ****, **** my ****.

Dangerous and courageous
Yeah--no that it is not who I am
A girl who just discovered her inner jezebel
Or a girl who understands hell?

I want to be one of you all
I want to be a lover this fall*

A dreamer, a painter, a believer.

Blasting Cobain's voice under my shaggy hair
Jack Kerouac's truth shining through
His words give comfort.
"Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable"

Schizophrenic, psychotic
Lithium, H.M.

"For once I'm just gonna live".

Thanks to men like you, thanks to women like you
The girl with unkempt hair and a messy soul
Messier souls and more unkempt hair days await her
She may smile softly or bite in another 'sorry!'

But she's....moving on.

Thank you, U.

This is my body
It's my limbs
My legs
My pink heads.

Clenching corners of my skin
Contracting Contracting
Muscles for days.

Deep inside me
Jelly-filled cream

This is my body.
It's mine.

Do not try to claim a piece on me
My rib cage is not splattered in barbecue sauce.

Do not label me, prickling your poky nails in my sight

I revel in love and you revel in anger

This is my body.
Mine.

My child bearing years, you see
But nothing can replace the intoxication
Of a new pair of lips and limbs when the clock strikes midnight
Forever at my lips, bidding adieu to sobriety
I can follow and fall into the arms of a new sincerity
Unburdened by half-baked promises, letters of stress and civil warfare
I can be your wife, I can be your life
But only for a night

Forever at my lips bidding adieu,
This is a dance I love to do
My nature proclaims a livelihood of attraction
A constant hunger and desire for justification
My dance I continue
I waver into the night
A flimsy frolic in the daze of whiskey
Lips and limbs anew
A dance of forgiven sins and Spanish limbs
A dance of forgiven sins and German fingertips
A dance of forty five minutes and millions of pelvic on my hips
This is my dance, not his.

The partners come and go
But the dance is me.
I am the ringmaster
My name belongs to me.
Forever alight with song and dance

A chance of meeting a new thrill
The intoxication of one night spill
A class of movies and sin
A dance that begs for gin.


This is my dance, my dance is me
You can join, but not in sobriety.

A cuddle or two is nice aftercare,
But the idea of true love is a story hard to bear
A few limbs, millions of genitals makes my fix
For my dance is me, my dance is I
Burning ablaze in the wake of the night
I am me, you are not
My dance is me, My dance is I

Forever forever engraved in my soul
A dance of my own
A life made for me, made for the rich lining that resides in my whole.

I am whole. I am me. I am the dance with or without sobriety.
Come hither, jealousy.

Someone once asked me. He asked me if I could go anywhere in the world..."where would it be?"
I told them what I now know is true, it is not where you are, it's who's with you.

On the move across our splendid vacation home, my friends are enthralled by the view. Mountains for days and a limitless sky--but I had seen more beauty in my brother's brown eyes.

People built by people; more than bones and limbs
So when people ask me about my school, it's the people who made me.

I must come to terms with who I am. I feel myself encompassed, listless
I drown in my own tears, plugged by my ****** and *******
When shall I fall behind and bring myself to the finish line?
Who shall help me? Can anyone really?
Is not life the weight of a thousand eyes and crippling murderous thighs?
I stand alone in this earthly lair,
I rise above the hands of those I thought dear
My goodness, it pains and brings about an ache so indescribable
What plugs me down is within myself and yet everyone
Engulfed. Gluttonous in its discharge
I am in pain
Not “half agony, half hope”
But a mix and a medley of the muddiest of emotions
My grass alongside my womanly pride
I hate my insides and what I contribute to the outside
I exhale all pain, unencumbered by today’s victories.

Young, Wild and Free
There is no game and there is no compass
How I despise, another fall
Another diminishing glimmer in my eyes.

Brown cascading with Blue
Lips on lips,
Hips and Sips
I could like you but I don't know how.

For monogamy is a practice unknown to me
A language miles away, from where interconnectedness flies away
It's greatest fear is it's mastery, for a life lackluster at it's very seams.

Monogamy, a prized practice
Forever at its lips bidding adieu,
I would like you but I don't know how.

How do I dignify a surmise,
You're beyond deserving of more.

I like to smoke and I'm not sorry,
I like drinking until I can dance and I cannot forgive
I find my comfort in a glass of whiskey,
I find my charm breeds with corona.

You deserve more than a mickey,
You are my delicacy beyond this honey brown purity.

You should be dignified,
You should be invited to the ball and not the moshpit.

A million words and a million girls
So I cower in fear
Simmer in the millions of men

For every woman you see, there are a million men for me.
I cascade in this, I comfort in the crowd.
I find comfort in daydreams, ripping seams, lips

Distance is my mechanism,
Hope is abundance
I want nothing but your gaze,
But to save my soul with a simple graze,
I seek comfort in the crowd.

I'm lazy,
I've grown lazy with indecision,
A indecision that has bred on fear,
A crippling, cold, vindictive tar suffocating all reason.
Horror lulled me into laze, and now I await
I await a love that consumes me

But how may a love come to me when I stay begging
Begging by a bottle, holding comfort in the crowd.

I seek comfort in the crowd, but the crowd does not fulfil me.
The crowd is a youth, it is not a lifetime.
I seek comfort in the crowd, but the crowd cannot seek comfort in me.

Symmetry is what kills me
Everyday
Proxy and poking

All day all day all day
Symmetry is what kills me
Proxy and poking

What kills a lady
With a shuffling heart
Heart beats a pitter patter across a blood stream
Angles and ages

America, isn't the symmetry of my veins that carry my oxygen enough?
Why does the flesh
My mounted flesh
Purpose was to sheath me from the cold
Purpose is now askew
Mixed and messy
Even my perception is far from Symmetrical.

I apologize for my odd lips
Minor and minute
My DD faces
Is that not what the true face is?
The pink heads splayed across a globed smile and frown
Lopsided and all that matters
My true face is covered
But my true face is the object of obsession
My silly, silly old lips
My flappy *****
My rings of curly tresses galore

Symmetry still kills me, everyday.

The sting of fresh ink
The pressure of the fountain
The feel of the metallic
The love for a hand.

Swirling azure
Midnight blue
Black as knight
White as hue.

Letters unknown
Searching for cavalier fools

A dream is nothing but a dream within a dream

Can I be as fresh as Poe?
I'm as mopey as Keats
Maybe I'll survive
Being fresh and fine

Emotion is my business
Suicide is my hobby

What the **** makes a girl a poetess?

Enchanted on my face
Public disgrace

Red boils down
Sheets a-torn
Feet adorn
Bare-less
Bar-less

***** & Distaste
Eyeliner and Cold sandwiches
Cod Liver Oil and Pokemon

Her eyebrows, they dance
Symmetrical and killer

Piercing my soul
Dark brown dinners.

The red mountain on the very tops of her skull
Framed by lion's mane
Beseeching eyes
Full lips
No kisses; birthmark of this
Teenage...Ageing

She's a fragrant fairy and I am a mountain top
Towering over the gangly red

No metal, yet no way to go ahead.

"Nothing to be done" yet "Beauty is truth, truth beauty"
Frankness is her subtlety

Raw age
Stark immaturity; pierced around a face of a lady of twenty.

I'd offer you wine, but a girl like you would prefer a coffee
Pick up this twenty, call me when you are thirty.

(deleted)

They didn’t like my naked body.
My roughed up, pale skin
My nestled dark hair on the sides of my armskins
My tiny ******* peeking, cusp of womanhood

“The naked body isn’t natural, you’ve misunderstood.”

Oh okay, so today I’ll put on my miniskirt.

“You clearly hold no respect for yourself and are conforming to these Hollywood standards that a woman must look like a ****. How un-feminist of yourself.”

Oh, then today I’ll put on a dress.

“What are you doing? Conforming to patriarchy? To this idea that you must be the epitome of innocence and revel in this idea a girl must be a silly fool?”

Fine, today I’Il put on a T-Shirt.

“Goodness! No sense of style! No sense of class! No sense of taste! As a woman, you should be trying to look the part of one that is polished!”

What a ******* mess.
FINE! Maybe I should wear a nun’s dress!

“Oh no, today that’s suggestive, a costume for Halloween,”

Waxed
Shaved
Scrubbed
Plucked
Trimmed
Moisturized
Se­xualized
Materialized
Labelled
Packaged
Stored
Selling
Sold

sometimes i feel as though i am such a tormented soul
for i gaze and graze upon thousands galore
i feel i am flexible
fluid
wavering
i can transition from hard to soft, in the matter of seconds

like the night sky and it's embers and flames
i feel in tune with all thousands, millions of decays
i look upon the women before my own

gazing nights and mystical convictions
i am formed by millions of these convictions

nothing encompasses my broken heart
broken for it is
divided
as divided as it is fluid--

thousand lies
for
nothing that is fluid
nothing that is understanding
is ever grounded

nothing that is fluid
nothing that is understanding
may ever be able to stay.

I am Munich

I am Paris

I am Edinburgh

I am New York City

But I am not New Jersey

I am not Bonn

I am not Alberta

I am where the city lights are

My life is a piece of art

I am where the symphonies lie

I am wherever Nabokov and Dali want me to be

I am on paints and pictures

I am temptation of rapture

Oh, Mister Nabokov, why this fate for me?   (I beg to you)

Oh, Miss Grey, why this fate for me?          ( I envy you)

Oh, Miss Banks, why this fate for me?        (I hate you)

Tortured ****

To the Daughter I may never have

I am sorry.

I wanted to see you and feel glee
I  wanted to kiss your chubby cheeks and walk you along with your grandmummy

I wanted to inspire you and pass on what I have learnt
I had hope to see my own woman rise past what I could not.

I am sorry I don't see your future anymore
I am sorry I cannot consider your hope

For yesterday I witnessed a hostile takeover of the body politick

It was devoured and dissolved by gluttony and greed but what fears me most is not the presence that is so overt

But the silent take over of the female world.

What terrifies me more is this subtle takeover of the female thought

Body is marked and packaged

Square in a stock market, **** your stomach in.
Little girls look at the portrait of the New American Dream
Glossy, plastic, shimmery

And I gaze on into the distance of a broken dream
Shattered is her discourse into her identity
For the idea that her body matters more than the content of her head.

I never noticed when I was sixteen
But
The body tatters and wrinkles in years
It is ideas that are limitless, expanding through the universe past every entity

The way they package the female body, silenced me.

They want to silence this requiem of dreams
Shatter my inner belief in me (and you)

I am afraid for now I see it in you, the daughter I may now never have

For I do not want you born into such a circumstance

Where your hope is *** tapes and swindles

I have never found limitation in my ******, let's make that clear.

But I have never found release in the understanding of the idea my ****** touch could matter more than my everlasting thought.

Oh, my daughter that I will now maybe never have
I’m sorry I could never see you, watch you flourish and become something great
I’m sorry I cannot bring you into a world where your opportunities are in abundance

But I am also not sorry because I learnt quickly, at 21, this world is too toxic, too polluted.

Look at my birth city, as people choke in a misty air that was created by this ****** thought
This is the physical damage and discourse.

But I also observe that
Had you been here, I could see your temptation to gaze away from this today...into the ideas of yesterday: “Why did I eat that?”

I could see you look at your limbs that let you move and dream and dance and walk to places of opportunity and see you fixate on tiny bumps and curves, not seeing them as components that make you great
But calculating the cost it would take to put them away.

They are silencing me and you
This really is serious
I feel toxic and I feel the air
The room closes in

Now I understand why I may never be able to have you

Because as I witness this destruction, xenophobia, bigotry and pain…
I still wonder if I look pretty today

To the Daughter I may never have

I am sorry.

This one is for the girl with unkempt hair and a messy soul.
Splattered in paint, ink dribbling on wrists.
Faces sprinkled with tears; gloss on a canvas.
Hearts sewn, bursting at its blood-spewn seams
Watching through her window,
Reminiscing her childhood dream.
The director calls for her, it’s her scene
Cream Cream Creamed
Nothing is what it seems
This one is for the girl with unkempt hair and the messy scenes.

Serpents, cradling, crawling
Happiness?
Inject it straight into my heartbeats.

No one is going to take my soul away,
God forbids I waste away
But I'm sitting here singing

What do I truly want?
My innocence lost
******, ******, ******

"If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?"
They want to take my soul away

What a ****** up holiday.

Caress me,
Entwining my total beauty
Embracing my stupidity

The girl who grew up too fast.

My friends are pointy
My friends are tight
My friends are firm
My friends pull me to new heights
My friends are fierce drinks
My friends are midnight shots
My friends are pill boxes
My friends are thoughts.

I can't look at glossy things
The Sun is the purest star
Triste

Twisted
The Sun is blazing

Dazing and Gazing upon the lack of man
Oh, how I love the lack of man

I am a kaleidoscope, ever-changing
My mood goes from blue to red, blue to red
I flicker constantly among the only constant
Triste

Dazing and Fazing upon the lack of man,
Oh, how I miss the abundance of man

Music pours across the room,
Vibrating off the walls
I have a caged body, I long for something great, to make my life
a poetry book across wild and mild pages

Will this ever be?
When my kaleidoscope changes and flickers with each drop of rain
The black dog running after me,
I am half happiness, half a *****
Triste

Don't let it break your heart/Let it break your heart.

Giving up is the hardest part.

I think of the men I've exhaled
Salty and in charge,
They swirled around in my thoughts
Entrancing me with shadowy shimmers
Cosmic vibrations and mystic visions
Enveloped across my soggy sore soul.

I ate my own soul for lunch today.
I am my own and my own angel
Programmed and primed not delicate enough for words
I wish I could entwine my pragmatic, cutlass wisdom
Into the sticky, soggy, sore soul.

Carol Ann Duffy could write for trillions of years
About me, about her, about every one of the millions to be heard
Exhausting is the useless, their one *****, soft and shallow pierces
It's a story we all may very well know
However it's another thing to drop this muted partner
Dump it into the Indian Ocean, let it go
Continue forward, marching on.

I loved myself more every yesterday
Seems my youth is draining with age

"Wasn't I beautiful, fragrant and young?"

Perhaps, but no one said the Queen was built in a day.

Wisdom should entwine my soul, not listless lovers
"I refuse to give up my obsession"
But you mishear, somehow my obsession is ME

ME ME ME

My sticky, soggy, sore soul.
The girl with unkempt hair and a messy soul.

Worry me not because of hazel eyes
Pity me not for transient hands, a transient romance

Pity those who live with a million backs,
Thinking as though they have selection
Merely selections, selections A plethora

No one wants, no one, mark my words
Genuinely wants to **** a ***** *******
Whimsical and flying, a absent look across your pasty face
Intrusive eyes tracing, your snotty nose across that silly face
That silly face you make, lazy used *****
Exercise a little more, won't you?
You're the one who believes he has an ocean

No ocean, no
A little cradle of girls with crumpled hearts
and slits on their embalmed pasties.

I'm disgusted, disgusted, disgusted by these sweaty ball sacks
Arrogance in their snorts, farts and living as though they can be
they can be disgusting, nauseating, revoltingly HUMAN

While I must adorn a satin sleek smile
Hairless ivory and flowery areolas
The ice cool temper of no wavering, no moving forward

Why must I be polished and pretty
Why must I put my soft palate against your sweaty naked jockstrap
Why must I let you crush my skull with your meaty, hairy presence
Choking my throat with disgusting salami of 18 years too late
Am I expected to smile and compliment you for this catastrophe?

No, worry me not that Hazel eyes no longer trace me
Pity me Not that I do not have meaty hands torturing my skull

Feel my liberation in your cold sock of cries.

**** **** *******!