2015

Starched tears stream, crust over like a spoiled sweet on pink cheeks, flushed, from suffocated time, gasping for air, I shatter at his words like brittle rust, crushed to dust, mind meek. Fifth time this week. Shallow breaths to Karma Police, struggle to peel off the plastic casket, sirens blare as you failed. Blade lies next to veins paled, Slice the baby soft skin mother used to scrub softly and kiss goodnight. Creature comfort, the womb This after all I've done for you? Desiring crawling back to your tomb? Maybe it was all a mistake… Read the same sentence over to make my heart rebrake Reopen, pained potion. Pulling angel hair. Watching the world shrivel and stale All I do is stare at the madness, memories flash like delirium, we inhale dioxide, burning like cyanide. Drunk again, blood stained bath where daddy used to shampoo hair. I popped bubbles, slurped soap to punish and choke, cuss words croaked. Brush my hair, it breaks and tears likes the day I came home with cuts and scrapes on fragile doll legs. These sharp aches can't compare with the pain, boundless fear, of making new gains Forced food commanders this life, strangers eyes, lustful skies pour like spilt milk, spinning white lies swifter than a spider and cheetah combined. Drinking syrup and bathtub wine, I only feel alive dying inside Cut, puff, thrust, drunk. Played cool, dressed like punks while failing school, thoughts collide over what's his and what's mine. Why they leave, I'm fine. This air tastes divine at the tip of the tongue that used to sound like golden butterflies, Then spat, bitter, berating my beliefs and rehab soul I can't stop shaking, raping my mind, assaulting my ears, relationship gone to mold, Granted, things are best when rotten, Begotten, forgotten. Although: I never forgot your empty threats, let's be clear, you never forced me to. You played my fear like a fiddle. Never took off your shirt because of a stress softened middle. But pressured for more and more, consumed me whole for not becoming your whore. I was under his spell Now I type, frantic, in hell I don't even know who I am anymore. Everything's a chore from talking, breathing, eating, speaking through clenched teeth and terse smiles, Where naked thoughts lie bare for miles. Lay like a corpse, popcorn stars on the ceiling drop down, chase the pink panther. Useless banter to fill a hole in our soul with trees and hazy winks leaves me empty, sick magic tricks of how quickly you can whisper sweet nothings in my ear, then disappear leaving me here in a land of poverty and a pool of my family's tears