my rotting corpse is my only comfort
the bows in my hair are red but at the start of this trip they were pink
i'm calling my boyfriend to tell him to worry for me because i'm to lazy to do it myself
i'm praying to all my mothers god that my period is just early and i'm not pregnant
i won't torture ny child with the generational curses that i am yet to even understand let alone break
my truths will be ripped from my blue womb and be fed to the sharks
this way it will never have to acklogge all the sugar and gory that began with its conception
her conception
i can theorise death so easily that it has become a whispered promise
i blink 3 times and i see it's pink and purple shadow appear at the foot of my bed and im on my knees again
i ripping open its leather belt and pulling out its secrets and promises that replace a fallible erection
i open my mouth and my lips are tainted with sin that is being washed away with lavender throbbing pledges
erasure, proof and endurance of my mistakes i take so much pleasure from knowing you rest safely in a greened grave yard
overflowing with rotting daises and mushrooms
