A man
smoking alone
in his room.
The clock
keeps watching
and singing all night.
You can feel them
and try to ignore them.

How many a line
Crossed how many a time
How familiar a shiver down my young spine.

How many a man.
How obscene an act.
How easy to place someone’s word before fact.

How sick and ferocious
How lewd and atrocious
I’m tethered too tightly to set things in motion.

Many a heart ache.
So much at stake.
I’m coming for you, make no mistake.

my fingers fell into cinnamon buns.
the sticky, sweet icing coated my nails.
the residue - stubborn and unyielding -
but enticing to lick, making me sick.

then my lips flirted with sultry wine
that pulled me into its safe embrace,
letting me breathe a sigh of relief
as I stared into space, enamored.

-somedays the voices in my head are shouting so loud I can't hear anything else.

Sometimes I am sick of being sick. I crawl into the covers and hope tomorrow is a better day. One where my mind won't be so cruel. Yelling insults only I can hear. I wake up only to find. The bully still living in my mind.

man was the first to preform suicide
natural born martyrs
too sick to bring themselves to eat their own filth
our strongest are easiest to fall
men were not made to survive
but sequential installments are in
follow suite in order to remain on top
in order to fall farther

who would know
   burns so sweet
      stings like salt
         reach so deep
            head tipped back
        twisted little girl
who would know
   fingers curled tight
      red stains faded
         nails deeply embedded
            tooth shredded tongue
        broken little girl
who would know
    who would know
        do you know

It is confirmed
You have a highly aggressive form of ***


© 2019 MJL

No room for me
in that space you need..
So I fed my disgrace
with percocet and ****.
I've been ripped off before
and still haven't been paid,
but trading love for percocet
is the worst deal I've ever made.