Dancing with cadavers

I'm writing your name on loose sheets of notebook paper and they're burning in to the night sky
Crimson, white, black
The patterns of the velvety stars are all that align my nerves with realty
While the swines are the only ones to ever understand your filthy hands more than I did
I'm washing my mouth in the river
And making music with the currents
Asking mother earth to forsake your soul

Tea time

-Big hat
-Thrift store prom dress [probably from the 50's]
-"Wild 'Bout You" pink lips
-Strand of pearls, from the garage sale in Port Huron

I'm coasting on your rays

Once again
I feel the p e r p e t u a l need
aching in my wrists
to push away anything "good"
sneaking in to my heart.
I complain about being l o n e l y ,
but I have knit my own blanket of loneliness
and I am smothering myself in it.
My head is in the c l o u d s ,
but my heart is in my hands
I am pulling on the strings
watching it s t r u g g l e
I can't stop myself
I love to HATE this game.