a statue, frozen numb,
covered in bird shit and you
were never pigeonholed.
closure is an act of violence,
you know, like an aching,
i will blink until i see stars.
i will blink until i see blood.
revenge is only as sweet
as a balance beam:
as dancing with the edge.
my heart jumps fifty stories,
you are the cement, oh the horror.
like the snake’s kiss,
like the sound of heaven and hell exploding; imploding.
wrap the echos ‘round,
we flirt with chaos and hold soft affairs
with the sound of our own destruction,
until not only do we lace our skin with
the seven deadly sins, we are sewing curtains,
table cloths, blankets
to shroud us in what we were taught not to do.
tea parties at three am and you want, i want,
we want: we aspire to be mad and darling we are
the sucess of our brothers, our mothers and sisters
we have become more than they had the potential to be. yet,
voices whisper: we are our own disasters.
collab with mykingsinthebackrow, who’s loveeeely