and i make a wish, as i lie my head upon this pillow to fall alone with my empty, naked beloved. let me grow: unfold these petals, if for a moment, so that i may gaze for a second at that which lies inside. to know that inner boy is all i ask; this one grows a rubber skin, with blow-up mouthpiece and painted lips. one second of your time, i beg, so that i may stumble and stutter again. stop me if i seem to cry. whisper politely, and i’ll scream a suicidal confession of innocence and purity. the chalk outlines fall to ash as he gives in to you again. alone and cold, she cries. but not to us. we are the untouchable. the ultimate. bow before your idols, let yourself soak to my stomach – that cold, stone organ that died with all the others. the heart was always disillusioned with syllables of respect and gratitude. if only i could tear your lies apart with bare fucking teeth. liar, whore, bitch, it’s all the same, in the end. you are what you know, what you feel, what you shoot. habits are hereditary. so much to thank for, then. lifeless dolls and paper clothes: hand-me-downs from a forgotten past, kept alive with “IT CAN’T HURT ME IF I WON’T SEE IT”.
