the denim shakes in
my hand; paranoia &
lust making a deadly
combination. the ghosts
i see touch the under
side of my belly and force
lightning from my womb
to the hollows of my skull;
i undulate beneath their
gaze & my eyes roll back to
view the glitter in my
head. the denim shakes
as i blink and the dead girls –
bloodied and beaten and bored –
flash across my lids, they
howl at my discomfort and
terror. i hear their
voices inside my brain &
feel their energy buzz in
my knobby knocking knees
& then the denim shakes as
i run as fast as my
anorexic legs will carry me
and as long as my mouse trap
ankles will carry me
& it shakes as you lean
over me & fuck me hard
until i'm bleeding from
inside ((but maybe i
just got the visit from
the illustrious blud
faery)) & after one last
bruising kiss of cocaine,
you get up to turn away,
your buttocks twitching
with every step you take to
get away from me &
then you are gone.

& the denim trembles &
shakes & screams as its
being ripped open &
made so bloody by
anti-cauterization magicked
scissors that snip all the
strings and arteries and make
giant holes my fat ugly
thighs peep through.

the denim shakes in
my hand; paranoia &
lust haunting me
as you promised months
ago you'll never come back
around and kept that
promise & my schizophrenia
is getting worse.