blood lies on plastic
spitting on your fingertips
I feel/slash/ I know
I had a stinky year.
(this was in the past not this past year)
pieces of paper mean more to me than you do.
eating inappropriate amounts of food in the middle of the night,
being a mirror I see things from the other side
a gust of wind swallows like a scream of fright.
some people just bother me.
my hands smell like money,
sounds glamorous
but i’m sure fergie’s hands smell like vanilla and cock.
images have ways to hide secrets that words cannot.
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