The heat is rising to my face.
I’m sex with a fever. I’m tight pants. I’m morning licks.
I smell Marlboro cigarettes oozing from last nights veins.
Blood pools around the corners of my mouth.
It tastes good.
Yellow lighting highlights my dim.
Black crows fly low through the graveyard.
The smell of decomposing bodies.
It doesn’t matter that my jeans are a needy lover.
Or that mascara lines my eyes instead of my lashes.
Or that the hardness of my nipples shows through my tank top.
My lower belly clamps hard against my cervix.
Blood lays on the inside of my lower lip.
It tastes good.
I’m notes passed in class.
Short sentences of one or two words.
Sometimes mmm or ah.
It’s all a game.
A game of who can hold cool the highest.
Of who could hold smoke the longest.
Of who could hold court with out boring the shit out of the rest of us.
Staring at faces and hands and walking feet.
Imitating my favorites.
Laughing at my least.
Conversations go on forever in my head.
Negotiating. Circling back.
Steam leaks through my eyes.
No one thinks they’ll live over 30.
The streets are windy.
Spraying dust in my eyes.
The tall buildings block the sun.
I never know what time it is.
Lights always flashing.
Inside and outside clubs.
Boys.
Cockroaches crawling over my skin.
Blood drips from my nose.
I lick it dry.
It tastes good.
My temples pulse while Leonard plays dark to my heart.
Fingers tap the sides of my black leather purse.
I pick up my pace.
Walking flashes on a Ferris wheel.
Heals clicking on cement taking weight off the balls of my feet.
Store windows begging me to look.
People in restaurants swerving their heads to catch the girl covered in blood.
It tastes good.
I’m killing myself.
With depression.
With drinks.
With drugs.
It soothes my toes.
It unwrinkles my brows.
It puts the bounce in my dance.
Dogs howl out their windows where teenagers jumped.
Cars swerve one way and hit another.
Lights change out of beat.
There’s rivers of blood covering the cement streets.
It’s where I play.
It’s where I run.
It’s where I sleep.
It’s how blood is.
And It tastes so good.
I’m sex with a fever. I’m tight pants. I’m morning licks.
I smell Marlboro cigarettes oozing from last nights veins.
Blood pools around the corners of my mouth.
It tastes good.
Yellow lighting highlights my dim.
Black crows fly low through the graveyard.
The smell of decomposing bodies.
It doesn’t matter that my jeans are a needy lover.
Or that mascara lines my eyes instead of my lashes.
Or that the hardness of my nipples shows through my tank top.
My lower belly clamps hard against my cervix.
Blood lays on the inside of my lower lip.
It tastes good.
I’m notes passed in class.
Short sentences of one or two words.
Sometimes mmm or ah.
It’s all a game.
A game of who can hold cool the highest.
Of who could hold smoke the longest.
Of who could hold court with out boring the shit out of the rest of us.
Staring at faces and hands and walking feet.
Imitating my favorites.
Laughing at my least.
Conversations go on forever in my head.
Negotiating. Circling back.
Steam leaks through my eyes.
No one thinks they’ll live over 30.
The streets are windy.
Spraying dust in my eyes.
The tall buildings block the sun.
I never know what time it is.
Lights always flashing.
Inside and outside clubs.
Boys.
Cockroaches crawling over my skin.
Blood drips from my nose.
I lick it dry.
It tastes good.
My temples pulse while Leonard plays dark to my heart.
Fingers tap the sides of my black leather purse.
I pick up my pace.
Walking flashes on a Ferris wheel.
Heals clicking on cement taking weight off the balls of my feet.
Store windows begging me to look.
People in restaurants swerving their heads to catch the girl covered in blood.
It tastes good.
I’m killing myself.
With depression.
With drinks.
With drugs.
It soothes my toes.
It unwrinkles my brows.
It puts the bounce in my dance.
Dogs howl out their windows where teenagers jumped.
Cars swerve one way and hit another.
Lights change out of beat.
There’s rivers of blood covering the cement streets.
It’s where I play.
It’s where I run.
It’s where I sleep.
It’s how blood is.
And It tastes so good.
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