I can't say you'd understand.

There are only a select few

Who join me in enjoying

Getting high off the fumes

From Mr. Clean, Bathroom.

I heard somewhere that turpentine

Was good for getting rid of zits.

I haven't found a difference in my acne,

But a release when it burns my skin.

Cutters think they're doing something good.

They haven't experienced true


Not the way I have

When I feel the searing as the burning knife

Cuts my skin.

If the blade is hot enough,

The wound is almost cauterized

Before it even gets the chance to bleed.

Starvation is the best cook,

Or so they say.

I believe it.

Don't eat for a week,

Drink only water.

It hurts but it's worth it.

I can be as skinny as the models in the magazine

And after it's all done,

Food never tasted so good,

Because I know it's the only friend I have.

With the exception of the forty year-old homeless man

Who'll have sex with me

If I give him a pack of cigarettes.

Yeah, Barney's a good man.

He knows a crack dealer who can set me up good

For a really cheap price.

All it costs me is a bit of the cash

I got from my mother's wedding ring,

A blow job,

And another broken hope that

Maybe the sun really would come out tomorrow.

One last time today,

I swear this is the end.

I won't have to worry any more

About hiding the tracks,

Or the scars on my arms,

Or the cigarette burns in my back.

I won't have to worry any more

About hiding my food,

Or the condoms

Because there never were any.


They'll find her when they look at me,

Probe me, and dissect my skin,

But that's okay.

I respectfully give them my permission.

The sky is black tonight.

The moon is full.

The dealer lying next to me

Stirs in his sleep.

I can't say for sure if this is all I wanted,

But as the dirty needle

Hits my vein,

I know it's all I'll ever be.

Monday, March 10, 2003