I wish I'd never wasted poems on you.

i fantasize about running away while i sanitize my hands in an attempt to feel clean, not just of germs but of this cage i'm in
i sigh as i rub my hands together and decide to stay

you never come to anything i do or say you're proud of me or say you love me you work all the time and the only time i ever see you is when you're smoking next to my bed cos you still make me sleep in your ******* room i hate you and i hate the way my lungs burn and I'm too old to be disclipned like that anymore its humiliating I'm not a kid anymore i hate you i hate you and i hate the way you treat my mom i hope you

noun

1. there’s water in the stars, and when it over flows it rains fire down upon us. it scared you once, and now pink scars run rivers down your cheeks.

2. maybe someday you’ll overflow just like the stars, and hell will bubble out of your mouth and onto the ground. there will be fire all around us and god will say, you have fire.

3. when you fell you reached up and your candle-wax rosaries burned all of time and space stored inside your brain, the records kept for nothing. and god will say, you have the end.

4. i walk miles of sand, half finished mirages in my wake as my heart beats to the vacuum of space. at night, if you look up, there are no gods there. you want him to say, here are the flames and here is the end, you want him to say you can die now. but there are no gods anywhere.

strike me down with an arrow
make ribbons out of my bones
call my mother every time i die
tell her the weathers fine
and call on god to smite me
(strike me down, strike me down)