the story of a goo girl

sometimes I forget I'm a bag of toxic waste
glowing goo through the black plastic
neon eyes looking through goggles
pulsing blue goo with streaks of black
press the knife right here and I'll pop
and you do so with an empty eyed stare
sobbing as I try to scoop myself up
and it's all just far too late to save me
just a toxic pool on the cement floor
glimmering self hatred spreading
black stringy lines of fetid self love
I don't know what to do staring up at you
I should be angry at you, shouldn't I?
oh my creator, bag maker, goo mixer
try to forget my existence, okay?
we all make mistakes sometimes
and sometimes our mistakes love us