she crawls through the city
smudged in shadows; on all fours.
her pretty little head scooped hollow,
she runs on instinct. broken neck, shattered bones.
she thrives in the marsh under the bridge,
she blooms in the cracks of the pavement;
she eats raw hearts for breakfast,
and growls at the oceans, drowning a million moons.
she screeches terror into the night,
when the voices tear her head apart.
she's the artist, she's the muse, she's the bloody art.
but also those neat rows cut on marble. oh don't you sniff too hard.
there's blood seeping through her nose,
and before she stabs the needle into her veins—
—she smiles at me; a wild thing.
oh. . .oh. i fucked up this time
×××××
listen to Consume by Chase Atlantic i beg of you, yeah. this poem is just a gorey little imagery that song left behind in my brain.
