the insides of my cheeks and mouth are filled with claw marks from where all the thoughts have tried to evacuate and as the fire alarms ring loudly in my skull, i keep reminding myself that it's only a drill and that the flames haven't started burning here, yet
my spine is lined with geraniums and hydrangeas, but the paintings i have created from their petals haven't been hung on the motel wall, and i'm starting to wonder if you really even liked them at all
how many drinks is this, now? who knows? long ago, i lost count i was too busy knocking over street signs and swerving toward your headlights
the dripping dripping d r i p p i n g
of my leaky, old faucet is soaking my mind
reminding me of the filth on the other side of this wall of the failures i've accumulated, and kept as souvenirs, sitting on my shelf collecting dust for years and years my name etched into the base of each trophy dated to mark the occasion of everything i've ever ****** up