Dear ghostfaceI drink you until I'm sick,
like overdosing on cough syrup for lungs I no longer have,
and I wish you would give me a second
to wheeze an apology
for ever making you feel like I was exactly
what you bargained for.
Summer heat is precipitating from my tin roof
and I'm thinking of you
over steaming cups of denials.
I wish I still loved you;
it took a lot less energy from me
and my body has never felt this blood deprived.
My eyes are swollen at the top
so my vision is lacking
and I know making sense has never been
in the outline.
But I hope that you sometimes still think of me
in that horribly tempting way.
I wish I got the chance
to take it back and hurt you.
I've never been the type to see things
in the right time
but I want them in all the wrong.
like a man who drowns himself loves the seathe teeth of choice barely rubbed at you through your clothes,
while i was scratched and scratched and scratched deciding
and the scars grew roots in my brain, thick and keloid white,
patterns i can't erase
i loved you like a murderer, like a hurricane
i loved you like a man who drowns himself loves the sea
i loved you like the two-ton anvil of responsibility i thought you'd handed to me too young
as rough your skin,
i worried just as much for you as for all the little sheep i left behind.
Drunken monologuesIn dams of tossed fabric and dust,
limbs tied with seaweed and voice-boxes gone bad,
summer taking us by powder wings
and dropping us in acid, you said
"I love you, I love you."
Alcoholic, slouched on my front steps
wanting to leave but too wasted to say it.
I've shot myself enough
to predict the next disagreement
and the sleepless silence that follows.
You forgot to breathe
and I'm too tired to remind you.
You said "we're hardwired baby"
and never before have I felt so useless.
I could lock the door and go to bed
but I would never love you this much when sober.
and yeahwe broke ourselves on the edge of dawn,
bottles and bottles and a small smoking pile of cigarette ash
you said sleep is for the weak
you said a lot of things are for the weak.
the girl in the boy's underwear told you were being selfish
and she told you to get a grip
maybe it was a bit mean,
but i think she had a point
pressure.almost everyday i wonder if you're
but i have no fucking way of knowing.
and my god, its impossible to
hate a ghost.
illumine.sometimes she wanted to tear the skin off her arms and dip the bared bones under water
and see if they still swelled and grew into logs rather than the twigs she craved.
it was as if there were little sandbags under the surface and they were delicately lined
and the water would sink inside them and grow and bulge and drag her into the water
but the weight is invisible, and despite the weight and the grey she feels all over
her feet wont reach the bottom, and her toes are the only thing losing feeling.
questioning.there was this idea that everything was just inside her head
just sitting inside her skull and making the rest of her body
tremble and quake over nothing but thoughts
and thoughts aren't solid
how can something that isn't even real
affect the limbs and the heart
and everything that makes us up
so greatly when it doesn't even have any mass?
monster"i feel like a monster" -
whispered secrets to a plastic Jesus;
pray for swift, holy justice.
no - Fate smiles. too easy.
swallow it down, let it
burn deep inside,
i tasted the fever on your lips
and it was metallic
burning quicksilver in your veins,
dripping off your tongue.
waited for it to consume you
like the monster
that it is.
"we're all monsters inside" -
broken revelations in the darkness;
the daylight was too bright
to see our sins by.
i drew the fire out with each kiss
and blew away the smoke:
guilt is like a glass hammer
beating against stone.
smothered.you look at people so differently when you learn of how their heart finally stopped beating.
the picture in the hallway looks darker than it used to, even in the full afternoon sunlight.
and the family photo from last christmas makes something in your chest tighter. locks you
up almost like your insides are compartmentalised and you just locked something up have
no intention of ever opening it again.
i saw a picture of you after lunch today and i don't think i've ever looked at you how i did in
that moment. there was something in the furthest blackest part of your eyes that scared me.
frightened and shivered me right to the core and suddenly it clicked. it made some semblance of
sense, well, more than it ever had before at least. that look i'd seen as a 12yr old girl wasn't
nervousness or shyness it was a monster, it was the extreme of all the emotions, reaching the top
of their power and mixing,blending into something that is thick and black and inescapable.
i thought o