|i have exactly eight hundred and eighty-eight deviations in storage.|
new years evein the absence of your kissnew years eve by crushasphyxia
i chew my lips to pulp
much like the way they grind
mighty oaks into paper.
there's a perverse sense
in gagging up stomach acid
my fingers are bruised blue and purple
i try to hide the bags under my eyes
with makeup colored like the full moon
but my face just becomes a lighter grey
and makeup doesn't make me look any less sick.
i am in a storm shelter, asking to see the rain
wondering how long it would take to drown