your pretty words won't work (on me) anymore. i'm past this caustic whirlwind--this constant constraint upon my lungs. ?you think you're so l ov e ly

just wrap your jugular around your throat (asphyxiate, asphyxiate) and f r a y your capillaries so you

bleed your irony(ies) onto ivory floors.

so beautiful, so beautiful.

i'm not (glitter) glamming for you(r soul) anymore.