|Come And Get Me Yourself
Author: Faithless Juliet PM
October 29, 1985-July 12, 2005, the ending of myself was only the beginning of what I have become.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama - Words: 803 - Reviews: 31 - Favs: 5 - Published: 08-19-05 - id: 1989196
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Come And Get Me Yourself
Just because someone tries to kill you and you make it out
doesn't mean that you don't die anyway.
within the sacrifice of my wounds
I have lost all trust in myself,
you want to know about my near death experience?
What it was like to bleed between metal.
You want to know about Mr. Gasoline
and his face aflame.
I've driven past your house
with arms raised-
that little white house
where your children live
(by the time I'm through with you
your kids won't be able to go to college.)
has been corrupted,
and I do not feel sorry for you:
1.) Your lane
2.) The turn lane
3.) My lane.
Three strikes and you're out!
Three strikes and you're devote!
Did you speak to Jesus in your lullabies?
when you asked forgiveness for the things that you have done to me;
for the crash,
and the slash
Have you thanked him yet for life after death?
Did you stroke the cheek
of Mr. Gasoline
Have you forgiven him yet?
Because I never will.
like a wounded
as though you could catch me between your claws
and make me surrender.
I don't want to go with you God;
Do you want to fuck me God?
I'm sure in your infinite space
you've heard about what a good lay I am.
And Mr. Gasoline
with his bloody face,
that my ears can't hear
(the glass shattered in front of me)
and the heartbeats
out of fear.
Did you want to burry me
to make me
your unwilling bride
to call you husband
where Jesus Christ plays match maker to marry us in heaven;
between our combined death.
between your heart and your ribs
making love to that part of you that is not scared.
Oh, husband mine
how you have collected me.
I would only fuck you in my black wedding dress
and then carry your bastard children
in my womb of spider webs
my only company
in the cold grave that you dug with your childish death wishes.
I wouldn't care about those children.
these motherless poems of which I write to you.
But let me return to my deathbed
God is standing at my bedside
ready to snip my fingers off
because they speak the truth
when I'm lost in nightmares.
I can't imagine what my mother would have done
if the metal had swallowed me up
and you took
between your fingers
that it was your face
that I saw
before I let go.
But flesh in cold
and I rose to the occasion,
let me break free
of my metal coffin,
my eternal internment with you.
saying words that I will never hear.
But if I let it pass
and go back in
would you take me again?
as you did once
and shattered glass?
with your face aflame
you will never take me down with you.
Had you taken me to heaven
I would have spit upon you.
Laced you up
because I was only nineteen
(I'm still just a little girl)
I would scream
like my father screams,
cast you out of me like a demon
and father to my bastard hate,
and I would tare your flesh from limb
until you're limp
I'm not okay
and I dream of my ashes
across the Pacific Ocean
where I swam as a child;
It takes you down when you least expect it!
It takes you like a dream
is only life
Life in cruelty by the thousands.
Life in mirrors
where your bastard children of self torment
scream in my arms.
of these ruined words.
I broke my neck
between your kiss
(head on metallic lip lock)
the bliss of God and his playmates
joking with me
But you didn't get me Mr. Gasoline!
If you want me;
then come and get me yourself.