Its like when your soul saturated wet heart gets wrenched out of you,
and you stuff your mouth with microwaved mac & cheese,
listening to no doubt on your bed,
chain smoking out the window, monsoons of tears ripping life out of you
...and then,
you stop for a second and try to make things a little less serious,
in your sisters room putting on her eye liner,
lipstick and mascara,
take your mummies' bottle of wine barefoot into the forest until you come across a shimmering pool of water;
a reflection like shattered blood and glass all over your face or some nightmare,
you plunge into the mosquito infested swamp and try to scrub it all off of you,
but its burning,
and theres sobbing,
and the bottle's empty,
and its getting dark,
so you lay there in your own toxic filth of remorse,
you close your eyes,
all you can see is his neck,
his chin, lips open calling out for the bottle,
broken,
his soft coy jaw lined with scruff,
brows striking a dark bold fury,
but his tan skin and brown eyes seem lacking true color,
desolate and foreign as if they don't know you,
no,
they never will know you ever again.
A beetle flies by, then lands on your leg,
another, two more.
You're so sad and sweet the insects love it,
you say so like locus for a scrap of brush,
they swarm you for your pity and you're on fire,
absolutely ablaze,
with a red,
wet passion,
they're biting you they won't stop biting you it itches it hurts it bleeds you choke,
drowning in the flames of your own unrequited love for something or someone too bitter,
like this wine,
to even comprehend how much they matter to you,
burning, igniting, finally Exploding,
you wail out a terrorizing shriek of anguish, and to your avail,
thy vale,
of clouds appear,
puffy, and grey, you could sleep in them,
like llama's wool, they descend on you,
flake, after flake,
cold,
icy,
comforting,
snow,
death,
you're so tired,
so, so tired,
covered in what looks like dirt, with dirty patches of snow,
nibbling,
you lay down and sleep but just for a little bit,
soot like snow, bugs, they're all the same,
and sleep;
you won't think of him any more,
because you'll be asleep,
and he'll never find you,
no one will ever find you,
so pretty with your sisters makeup,
pretty.
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