"My Confession"

[Alcohol]
Tired eyes of blood shot tea and pig masks with smiling eyes,
rubbed my fingertips into the muck of black mascara I don't need.
Let the trembling head fall back in a grin while vodka burns gums,
rotting tongue lick cut lips so the sour poison doesn't get out.
Tombstone with my name on it printed neat and clean like my bottle,
thick gold liquor swishes around in a bottle with a black cap.
Injections of bruises under the puffy skin below my eyes,
nowhere is like here in this hallway crying into an empty glass.
At first we mixed soda with it and then I made my own and forgot,
fire cold and ice hot together and made me fall on the wood.
That taste in my mouth makes me smile as I lay flat on my back,
sinking into a bottle of strawberry deception with slurr.

I laughed with a sigh of words, "I'm so fucked up..."

[Cigarettes]
Crafting a poison stick with a brown piece,
ash and black rust in my throat and lungs.
I want to cough but the boy said not to,
the world tilted so I fell sideways into him.
Haggle free smoke billows from my nostrils,
mouth burning with wanting to spit it all out.
Only one drag and I wanted more little as I smell,
swallowing a bit of dirt and dry tongues.

The boy got close, "Sorry, didn't mean to turn you bad."

[Isolation]
Explosions of blank feelings and almost hateful feelings against a reflection in the mirror because that girl is stupid and selfish and she breaks too many hearts because she's a bitch and a whore. Though people say she's too harsh on herself and should see that she's beautiful.
Phone will be turned off and the computer doesn't matter anymore, the halls are filled with talking people but for now all she hears is mumbling and whisperes all around her and all she sees is the white figure that is her amoung all the rainbow colors.
What starts with war ends with death and I can help but to find out that I hate myself and derserve nothing more but to be alone. A bed of cold and heat so a clumpy sweat ball molds with canvas of grey and bold white.

Tears slide down my cheeks, "I'm fine."

[Self Mutilation]
An itch,
like that of healing.
Tells me,
to pull open wounds.
A woman I lost to a man,
a man who cries because he can't have me,
a girl who I used in love,
a family who is not a family,
a friend who's life is spiralling...
Sixty seconds and I'm already ripping the
blade down my skin and I like how I
nonchalantly cut closer to my wrists
each time.
Blood bubbling,
cuts currdling,
wounds weeping,
blades blistering,
scars smiling,
eyes erupting...
The clock makes me wait,
it'll only take a second when I slice and carve.

My breath shakes, "This.. Is bliss."