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Friday, August 6, 2010

Waste away, it really is okay

Get out of the water and hide in the wrinkles of the towel, wrapped up so tightly like armour.
No one's home to see the blood seep through the sides.
Sit down and edge yourself up to the wall, letting the tears fall.
It's sad, so sad, but no one cares.
Just cry until your head aches and you're too stuffed up to breathe, then go upstairs.
Smoke filled bedroom, try to get dressed.
Smokesmokesmoke everything smells like smoke.
Breathe in, stop... -wait, is she still breathing?

Slip an over-sized tank-top over your head,
smashed, broken in, flat gold glasses around your neck, tying the chain close like a choker,
and pull a watch with a bigbig clock on your wrist.
Rings on both fingers, ringsringsrings sounding off a sound so horrid no one hears it.
Nails nice and long so you can scratch when no one's looking,
strap a razor to your side just under your dress.

It's fine.
It's fine.
Go outside, smoke until your lungs coughbleed dry.
Until your thighs cry, cut.
Until your head cracks, scream.
Until, until, until you're dying,
But don't you fucking dare live.

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