girl like: can recite digits of pi up to number 25. got a mouth full of razors but will find a way to speak around them so she can spit out the answers to last night’s math problems. girl like: walking around with one million useless facts that will never save her life and one million useless feel-good quotes about yoga which won’t save her life neither, girl like: need her on our classroom jeopardy team but don't need her for much else unless we need somebody to stand in the middle of the room and just scream
girl like: you kissed her on a night where she got drunk for the first time and you were the whole bottle of fireball but nobody pulled her away from you because when girl like this parties, people think it’s funny that she has no sense of danger
girl like: walking on glass, girl like balancing act, girl like “it’s easy if you understand weight distribution,” girl handling a crime scene easy because the one in her left temple is sort of sloshing around and spreading past the edges and one of these days she’s gonna have to deal with it in some other way rather than “the angle of the bloodspatter shows the angle of the assault” rather than “i’m fine i’m just tired” rather than “sure i’ll help you study for the final” rather than being in the backseat of her mother’s minivan and silently weeping without anyone seeing and for reasons she can’t quite put a finger on 
girl like: she apologizes because this area her body is a building in renovation so the appearance is unsightly and truth be told she has no idea if she’s going to tear it down or build it up but the mystery is sort of exciting isn’t it - and you’re trying to scrape her off the ground with your eyebrows in that little knot people get when they’re upset but don’t know really how to fix it and she keeps running and she says: listen, the specific heat of wood is pretty high, you know. her feet are burning, nevermind her soul
girl like: science is amazing isn’t it don’t you know objects in motion tend to keep speeding towards a brick wall and i’ve shot myself out of the barrel of a gun wanna see the angle of the bloodspatter wanna walk across the coals wanna stick your fingers in the glass of my brain wanna turn up the music so nobody hears the stitches coming undone darling i’m sorry i’m not savable we’ve tried everything darling i’m sorry i come off like i’ve got everything in between my fingers but darling being up-to-date on my homework doesn’t make me strong being good at hiding it doesn’t make me the voice of success being able to laugh when my brain is a mess just makes me sad it doesn’t make me a hero
girl like: my favorite digit of pi happens to be zero.

You see, I know a girl
She's quite beautiful,
She's very funny.
She loves everyone
And has no mistakes to be made.
But my mind,
A desolate, dark plane
Has taken this joyful girl
And twisted her so.
She became a darkness to me,
My mind hated the fact that she made me feel joy.
A brutal pit I threw her into;
Each time I close my eyes
She dies

over...

and over...

and over...

By my hands
An endless bloodspatter,
A Hell with no escape.
I want to **** her so bad
But why?
What leads me to feel this way?
Why has her image been so bent and misshapen?
It's as if I put her in a funhouse,
Amidst all the mirrors,
Twisting and turning her.
She is trapped inside my mind,
A place where she will die,
Brutally,

over...

and over...

*and over...

I wonder if the big bang
was a response to god's loneliness

And maybe he sat alone for a long time
half braining ideas
about making things that
might love him

God never said
let there be light
he just put a gun in his mouth and splattered
stars across the wall of the universe

His black hole brain
something like regret
trying to **** all the stars back inside

And I think about the days you tried

But that's not like you kid
Even though you had blood
spilling out a hole in your gut
Bone white shallow breathed

There are still stains on the passenger seat of my car
Which I now call my living room
because I am homeless

And there are no walls that could hold the contents of your head
like jackson ******* bloodspatter
a pretentious painting titled
and homage to the ****** of failure

And you are not our mother
suicide cocktail
no ice

and you are not our father
an Alzheimer's ghost
Haunting a history
we never lived through

You are skinny like water
running down the zylephone of your ribcage
tinny laughter

Asking me questions like
if love is as powerful as they say it is in the movies
then why do people give up sometimes

I'll never give up I said

You asked me if I thought god was mad at you

the doctor chalked up you living
to just luck

and I think of when god made molds of men out of mud
and breathed into them
and the mud men lived
Mud must have felt lucky then

But for us its not luck
we make so much fuss
Just so the world knows
we're alive as ****