"You're fucking ugly."
I wanna spit it in her face and push her down some stairs.

I wanna watch her lose her balance and fall ass-backwards,
mouth hung open in shock and agreement. (Of course she agrees with me, I'm Mrs. Right.)
Then I'd call her disgusting and kick her two more times. No,
three more times. God, I hope she dies.

I hope she drowns and gets pulled
under it all, you know, suffocates in her own shit stains -
I mean, in herself.

"She's only nothing, only nothing," I tell him.
And we agree and laugh at her and she's watching so we kiss.
His hand finds my left breast and my mouth is already around his dick and she's

I keep my eyes on her when he splatters brain matter all over my bed sheets. And I'm still looking when she starts to cry.
I'm staring her right in the eye, you know, dead in her fucking pupil and
she's crying. We're fucking. I'm laughing. He doesn't care.
Her breath starts coming in gasps, I'm rolling in deceit when he pushes me down the stairs too and
my knees hurts, my dress is not on right.

(Oh man, I hope my eyeliner doesn't bleed.)

I find myself landing beside her, beside her tear soaked face and all, right arm extended towards me.
She's offering me forgiveness and friendship and things I'd never ask for because I don't have to,
I am better than her. And I am naked, covered in revenge; pretty & sticky.
There's a condom wrapper stuck in my molars and |WHORE| drifting somewhere in my hair.
Well, fuck her.
Push her hand away. Stand up.

It's on my lips. It's in my brain, in my underwear. I wake up to it every morning.

I look up at the stairs, just some ordinary stairs. I'm looking up at the stars.
But He's not there anymore. Again. How long has it been this time? (Who cares, fuck...)
And my heart starts screaming her poor soul out, beating at my ribcage and
breaking; crying acid like a baby.

"What do you want from me? I'm a fucking nutcase."

And then it dies. And she's gone even though he never planned to stay.
And I'm alone.

But don't listen to them. I'm happy now, I swear.