someone puts a spoon in me and stirs.
i am piccadilly circus on amphetamines
the alcohol gurgling in my eyes
i go to the bathroom, i throw up
the boys help themselves to my cigarettes,
to my self-respect, but they don’t even know it.
and i can’t help but wish
someone was holding my hair behind my neck right now
to stop my mistakes sticking between the strands
and a heavy heart of disgrace
as a friend blames me in his slurry state
for getting kicked out of a lock in we weren’t invited to
there’s coke on my shoulders
and a kid inside my bones wailing to get out
i think of the freesias my mother gave me for my birthday
because i have lost the Barbie girl in me
who loves daisies and swings and orange juice
this woman threatens me in the mirror,
she gets afraid of the confronting night
and storms out of the apartment, angry,
that she’s only good for the cigarettes in her pocket
and that she shares nothing
but all of herself
to wasted thursdays under the glare of red wine
and abuse from people who don’t even ask her
where the hell she comes from
but spill their pride like cum all over her face
and tell her to clean up
and tell her to bleach away the bruises speckling her smile.
i never saw such a woman.
but she wore six inch boots and fur coats
and she scared me.
the hours gloop down my throat
and so i give up on people
and so i quit smoking.