viii. WITHOUT PAUSING, SWALLOW THIS WHOLE.
maggots crawl out of blue veins holding on to the grip that one should be okay but is not for the fact they cry themselves to sleep every night in a black engulfed room yet they swear when they open their swollen eyes all they see is fire all they hear is screams of demons that want freedom but she keeps them tucked close the comfort they give it's all to real all too not enough even when their horns continue to puncture holes into skin unhealed carve their names into bones once made of steel bury themselves a home in the soul she once found herself being
words words words they all swallow her whole words words words the therapist that sits across from her won't shut up words words words it all sounds the same out of different shade of pink lips and chapped peeling skin that has never known the moisture of being sewn together words words words mother won't understand that she doesn't speak of god because of the fear of it all how such a myth can be so powerful how people can believe in such a thing when she can't even believe in herself words words words continue to play pretend at the age of thirty with red stained lipstick wine glasses and a smile that wants you to think she's fine when really she wants to die words words words shut up shut up shut u-
teacher grades an essay an F, try better next time in red ink that matches the crimson that bleeds the night she goes home and cuts herself open in a bathtub of rose petals and glitter make her feel powerful as the pulse rate rises smiles that have meaning music blares out her heavy sighs of finally with back against cold marble
the satisfaction in it all disappears down the drain as she's left to pick apart the petals and shove them down the pipe with all her lost hope and dreams every aspiration in life flying away as easily as the birds do wishing time was solid because it all goes too fast or too slow or in between and she hates the in between hates it hates it hates it when she finds herself scratching at her skin hates it hates it hates it when father finds her scars and hits her for being so pathetic hates it hates it hates it when she drop kicks the Bible within church walls and the priest banishes her to hell loves to tell him she's already there loves the idea of standing on the top of the empire state building swinging around the pole that gets the view she deserves loves to picture herself free falling to the pavement awaiting her wondering which taxi she'll hit a fun game to distract herself from the loneliness that has built up within her
to distant herself from the screaming the fire continues to bellow out long after it's been put out
YOU ARE READING
on this day.
Poetryxvii, april. (ii). these words speak louder than i ever will. © playlist poetry h.r. : #55