started off the new year with a pistol in my mouth
i refuse to acknowledge what scares me
and in my most grating and fragmentary moments
indecipherable prayer crackles through
the static
tongue dusty
i wouldn’t know what to do with a man who could handle my turbulence
is this chemistry or a haunting?
carnage is so boring
i want something cerebral
i am more lethal than i have ever been
soft and sharp at the same time
all my hobbies are illegal and my favorite stories almost always end
in violence
i think God understands
there are evil eyes all over my home but nothing to tend to the evil in my chest
i wonder if something malignant grows there
the real body count is how many abortions i’ve had
the cops are outside waiting to arrest me
for shit I did - I don’t even remember
carbon monoxide has no scent
and there is a giant bruise on my hip from where i caught the corner of the desk
emotional outbursts in public are a sign of low intelligence and lead poisoning
does your mother love you?
trigger warnings are for the weak and if you want to survive you’ll have to learn
to enjoy your discomfort
i want intimacy so badly
but
i have a hard time being touched
it’s a shame i look good naked
pale
nose bloody
wet for no reason
possibly poisonous
i’m not particularly warm or easy to get close to
and when i die
no one will say that i lit up a room
mars is in my 7th house which means I make enemies for life
i’m not a pick me girl
i’m a nightmare
and i do a mediocre job of hiding it
but my eyelashes are curled and
i am put together
because God don’t like ugly
and this isn’t a poem
this is a hymn for the sick and angry
maybe one day i’ll get tired of the taste of gun metal
