or you find it sometimes in your pockets by accident
your room fills up with smoke
so does your head
you remember conceiving a can of worms on that bed
and he opened it with one final thrust.
you think spring comes alive
whenever you open your eyes.
and in a room full of mirrors you are back
with a baggy of mandy
and scrannin’ whatever you can.
you’re not one colour.
you steal everybody’s cigarettes.
you put your dolly to bed.
you say you hate yourself,
but you don’t really.
you’re a lovely purple on Sundays
and you think you’re a princess of rainbows.
and it’s funny when you stare at your ceiling all night
as he paces the floor 10 minutes down the road in his bedroom
anticipating his next wank
he whips it out and bleeds thoughts of you from his pipe.
he begins to wipe away the mess
from his sweaty face.
that he put his heart into you
and you laid waste
to a winter he loved centuries ago.
i would’ve put you in my lungs
and continued to cough you out.
your fingers dripping with a lemon smile
and it’s worthwhile
to note we’ve all carefully sucked God’s balls
at our most vulnerable.
but you’re a trick of the light.
an unreal scent.
and i just think it’s funny how we’re all sleeping together in bed.
i think it’s funny how much my nails have grown
so i can scrape your dirty face from my memory.
and how many times i’ve seen your face in Deansgate
sat with a cheeseburger
as you try to inconspicuously rub your fanny.
is it itchy?
or is it just what you do when you see me,
the memory you get paying for a special mistake pill over the counter?
does it hurt?
did you find anything in your pockets,
or see a passing fancy?
did you love him better than i ever could?