• maleficent_ 30w

    My life has slowly
    morphed into , Kurt Cobain's
    trigger finger ,
    asking people to be
    open minded , quite literally--
    and I thrive on
    the sound of dripping blood
    from their temples ;
    blue print of their sins .
    Usually , I come home to
    a father unstable on his
    feet , a mother with a
    terrible tolerance to sanity and
    a sister , drawing guns and intestines
    on pages .
    Today , I don't look at
    their disintegrating faces
    when I stumble back home ,
    to pick up dad's keys .
    He wouldn't mind , he
    sometimes tries to make
    me a fragment of his imagination .

    ( Dad , how I wish I were just
    a part of your subconscious .
    Reality is terrifying . I would ask you
    to save me , but can you save yourself? )

    I hit my head on the steering wheel ,
    I've been trying to learn
    how to seduce men and turn
    the switch off .
    I've also been trying to write
    about a boy since this poem
    has started .
    How the newspaper will
    decorate my house tomorrow
    --Unidentified young woman
    found dead on the streets --
    my mom's eyes will evolve
    into gruesome skull holes .
    To her , I was a good little
    daughter , continuing the loop
    of life .
    My sister will draw dead
    bodies , with a face that looks
    similar to hers ,
    and my dad will finally be able
    to stuff me in the drawers
    of his imagination and
    rip my skin ,
    strip by strip .

    I sometimes find bloodstains on
    clothes I wear ,
    my brain has slowly liquefied itself
    and seeps through pores
    when I try to write ,
    Kiss me , and you'll taste
    sins and regrets with a hint of
    copper , this isn't my first
    time kissing someone , I have
    kissed the muzzle of a 9mm
    time and again , and woke
    up eveytime to mourn
    what I could've been .

    Where does this lead ,
    a graveyard or your bed ?


    - R

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    Unidentified young women found dead on streets