02.15.19
My arteries are clogged with my own bullshit.
If my heart ever fails, just know I did it to myself!
When did my bones get so brittle?
I swear I break my own neck every day getting out of bed.
My skin is just bad paper mache.
It breaks open at the mention of sadness.
My blood makes a puddle and runs down the drain
flowing out of my brain pretending when I'm feeling is
Pain.
YOU ARE READING
digital dance - poetry
Poesiayoure not alone in the way you scream at a god who hears but does not understand or care to learn
