a fairytale

orange shower
orange skin
spray on sexy
swims to the drain

pale is for the poor
and ugly

ew

I pour my pores with
orange powders
tinted sprays
and liquid light
now I'm
all right

no more plain
white

and I am the
sun-kissed Cindarella,
a beautiful
blond
who glitters for the ball
but watches all her beauty
bashed
as midnight crashed.

sometimes beauty
is a spell,
I think,
as I watch
my tan
swim
to the sink.

itchy

I drag hair from my war torn scalp.
one blond, two blond, three blond four.
and toss them
free fall
to the floor.

I scratch my nails into my skull
and find crimson skin beneath my nails.

I force myself to stop.
Drill my fingers into my palms,
pinch into my skin.

But my skull rolls roars
for fingers.
pick. scratch. pull. attack.

attack
attack

it's sick
I'm sick
I want to pick
myself apart;
reverse jigsaw,
and remove myself raw
of all my wrongs.

I'm a disease I want to appease.
A bug I want to put in a corner
and crawl from.

I want to wiggle away from my skin
like a snake
and trail my organs
across
the
floor.

Dis
ass
em
ble
myself
into
c e l l s
and sell
my soul
for something
worthful.

a list of shit that makes me think of you

double straws
melted ice
miller lite
icy breaths
musk
and cigarettes
(marlboros,
minus the filters)
squeaky leather seats
audis
ringless fingers
vaselined hands
pastel oxfords
a wool sweater
the joke about fucking sheep
a packed suitcase
the thong I left at his place
the empty pinot grigio
and the warm spot
still left
on my favorite
pillow