I need help

I'm always sorry.

I look at boys sometimes and think, "Damn, I bet he's never been in love."

I always think I can fix things, especially, it seems, when they're not broken.

I trip up and get to thinking this shit's for someone else.

It's a lie I start to tell myself.

It's a  hurt I like to call good health.

I like the way he turns to He.

I like the way it tastes.

It's easy to say everyone does this, everyone does this to themselves.

You're just a whore.

Poor girl, she's just a whore.

See what the fuck I did there?


Agon on top of pathology

Mortality on top of mortal sin

Objection on top of rejection

Lust on top of affection

Need on top of excess

Stuff you do makes it impossible for people to see your pain

It makes you invisible

Invisiblity has never been a real friend to you, no matter how bad you seemed to want it.


I miss who I used to be.

This poem is about: 



My head is spinning, wow, great!

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