car ride

a/n: perhaps at 6.17am, or maybe on the bleachers. multiple meanings. i guess.

it is as if i am game to

dedicate you my heart but

before i gear up the razor 

slices a slit through my chest

you're plunging one hand in and the other

squeezing my sides 

wrenching, ripping, oozing it out and

never

stitching me back together

i never dream of bleeding

at your hands but the first renegade 

glissades and smears.

two three more –

can't.

breathe.

stupid, stupid, stupid.

this is a vicious cycle.

hold me tight

i would like to say that

i don't lie but that is

not the case

all this deceit

puffed-up pride

you see me not-caring

awkwardly "innocent"

i am not one bit flustered 

by anything

at all

unfurling clenched fists

bitten tongue

emerald, petulant eyes

venom and poison and

despair

two a.m. is the hour of

sacred mumblings

nostalgia, detest and 

my imagination?

fantasies within delusions

perhaps one will catch onto

these lies — permission granted to

break me crush me strip me

hold me.

tightly.