living in a dreamdreamnightmaredream –
i hope the sunlight doesn't rest upon these words and illuminate
my intentions. despicable, despicable girl,
deserving a fate worse than death but
denying herself even that pitiful pleasure.

sometimes i wish myself a
solid rock sculpture, expression unyielding and
hollow eyes penetrating even the darkest depths of
his soul, i want to know you like i know
the words on the back of my hand are lies,
pretty and little and
unending, undying.
i want this to be forever, this pain to cling to me until one day
it's not pain, perhaps things will change –
and i tell myself as many lies as my hand does,

and i tell myself it was just a bad dream and i'll wake up in
december, with the right mind to do something
about this, him, and
those empty eye sockets he owns.

but would anything had changed had i been
brave that christmas day? no.
nothing. the sun would've set upon him and i at
different times and he
would've gone on livinglivingliving-deadboy and
i would never have known him, his world, his words,
and his bleeding days, smokestack,
bloodshot eyes and
venomous snake words i only wish were
constrictors.
i would never have known his truths, nor hers,
i would never have been a body in the morgue.