Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Have yourself a muscle relaxer
Melting, drowning, dying. Your eyes are food for my smile, they trap me like a spiderweb traps flies. I writhe around for a moment before conceding and accepting my demise. You smile wide and eat my soul, a mouth too perfect for words.
I sigh, needing so desperately to feed off of the contact another provides me that I've taken to hanging my head in shame. I'm rusty when it comes to sentiments. I'm following my heart down a dead end alley where reality prepares to anally rape me. Sometimes, I bend over. Sometimes, I fight it.
I gaze at the wild haired beast in the mirror; she's cold and has no soul. She's bitter, she has no smile. She's exclusive, and poor. Upon her wrist lie three shallow cuts. She fingers them, knowing soon they will be smooth. She places a smile upon her face as she remembers the rough edges that led her down the suicidal path. She cries out at the idea of the scissors being too blunt, too dull to do real damage. "Help," she asks herself. Access denied.
Plain and sallow, she beds herself with the first pair of eyes that hold meaning. Now she waits for the pieces to fail away from the picture they make. Care has blossomed where hate has dined. Hold your breath. There are no happy endings, just death scenes and a quick cut to the credits.
1-26-09
I sigh, needing so desperately to feed off of the contact another provides me that I've taken to hanging my head in shame. I'm rusty when it comes to sentiments. I'm following my heart down a dead end alley where reality prepares to anally rape me. Sometimes, I bend over. Sometimes, I fight it.
I gaze at the wild haired beast in the mirror; she's cold and has no soul. She's bitter, she has no smile. She's exclusive, and poor. Upon her wrist lie three shallow cuts. She fingers them, knowing soon they will be smooth. She places a smile upon her face as she remembers the rough edges that led her down the suicidal path. She cries out at the idea of the scissors being too blunt, too dull to do real damage. "Help," she asks herself. Access denied.
Plain and sallow, she beds herself with the first pair of eyes that hold meaning. Now she waits for the pieces to fail away from the picture they make. Care has blossomed where hate has dined. Hold your breath. There are no happy endings, just death scenes and a quick cut to the credits.
1-26-09
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Have yourself a muscle relaxer
Have yourself a muscle relaxer