I run my face under the tap
It’s not very graceful but it’s money
This birthing myself for men
Dissociating out of a mythical dream
Just so I can dream some more
Is it true I was born for them?

I wish it was easy enough to believe this
Take my place as ******* girl
Poster girl, poser girl
Putrid girl would be right
The dream being much bigger
Than what I see night after pulverising night.

A cheek for eating
Pink snake slithers up my throat
Pushes out the remains
I go twenty levels up
before crashing back down
Is this what you want for me?

Tears upon years old stained tears
Intertwined with future
A feature I’m sure I’ll encounter
Once feeling comfortable in my skin
A territory so consumed by me
You can’t push past reasoning.

Tube lines
Nostalgia at the junction

Tears ***** my eyes
Terrify them

In the arcade
In the deep cuts of my brain

I’ve been here before
As a punk, a skinhead, an NPC

A lost song, paranormal cartoon
I put their headphones on

Right to wherever I danced with them
Right to wherever I died with them

Chalcot Square reminds me of charcoal
Eyes struggling to fight
Clay melted by sunlight.
Building blocks of pill bottles
Balamory houses in a myth I can’t get to.

I’ll go someday
Until then I’ll keep walking circles
Letting maps lead me into school roads.
I’ll celebrate once I’m dead
Like the ghost of the girl I tried to visit.

Is she back in fashion
Is she getting something
More than a dead goodbye?
Not even a kiss is ever in motion
Channeling robots
Love her love forgot

Nothing was ever made so monstrous
But her, but her, but her
Her fault, her problem from scratch
A joke is a monologue
A monologue a break up
Now she’ll never go to Marden Square

Since she can’t even find it
Since she doesn’t want to find it
Since she doesn’t wanna get ill
Inveigled into silence
Sentence of a hopeless romantic
May as well hang it up for good.

Lines are drawn across pitted skin,
She pulls her claws, tying ribbon.
Mouth sewn tight so I can't speak,
I slide my wrists upon the sink.
My feelings are transparent;
This pain endured is like heaven.
She tells me that I deserve it,
And so I make another slit.

If I take a hold of my corruption,
like the sun it will go down in the evening
or dry out like cinnamon,
as flat as Philodendrons in the scenery.

I’m a shark about to bite,
but i’m taking in my surroundings
and burgundy flags come to belittle me,
they’re people with only grounding.