shame shame shame
take a look at me.
are you ashamed of me yet? and my hand goes for my deck: matte rough texture toploader sleeves (they cost me $8.89)
strewn across the floor now and static hisses in all the emptiness of my maw. i set the first stone down.
if you’ve ever wanted to- when else are we ever going to do this? and my chest hurts again, Holter monitor probes wired to my ribs (good news, nothing’s wrong!) then why does it hurt to breathe talk and my knees cave in a flashbulb shatters behind my eyelids runny warmth and a grinding pop
lakewater as libation. and you look at me one more time and i’m still not there.
guilty little mutt. sick thing. can’t even put herself down. what a waste of potential.
and your eyes sinter into a eutrophic jade. lips–carmine– part and you can hear its keening whine. it’s just you.
don’t worry.
one more time.
are you ashamed of me yet?