the paintbrushes sit on my shelf,

their hair fries just watching me.

the yarn in my closet yearns to be untangled

but they’re stuck while i scroll.

the stacks and stacks of journals

will collect dust right under my nose.

i’d like to clean my room,

and i’d surely enjoy a walk right now,

but one more video can’t hurt, right?

id like to blame my phone because

i sometimes forget how easy it is to ...

i am a lover girl with sharp teeth

who avoids the ones she loves most,

afraid of getting scratched or bit.

after all

a hug is the beginning of a swallow,

a kiss is the beginning of cannibalism....

I stare at her with

hatred and disgust in my eyes.

her face is oily and full of pimples,

her arms are too long,

her stomach protrudes,

her thighs aren’t right,

her hair is always a mess.

I just want to scream and punch her

but i can’t,

or else the mirror would shatter

into a million pieces....

if wishes fell like rain

then i certainly am a storm.

to be perfect for one

i’d cut my veins,

peel the skin,

and shave it down to the bone

so it can intertwine

what’s left of my fingers

with your palms

just so i could say

“we are perfect together”

as blood drips down my lap....

through the bark

and the moss

chokes the trees

with such grip

whispers

don’t let me go

just like how

i whisper to you

to water me down

with river water

so you don’t

have to choke...