My feet are sliced open, into fragments of steps that you stripped from me. A stolen future, I had my goals. You; with your harsh words, cold eyes, belligerent heart. Substance taking over human flesh. Swinging me from direction to direction, twisted into some fucked up bobble head. And still I lye splattered reluctantly on this rugged garage floor. The blows are getting worse and worse as my head pounds into the rusted chair and dirt-filled cement. The feeling of each blow brings rushed anticipation for what the future brings. Where did the things go that I brought to the table? The farther I think, the further I see. We can cap the old times playing that nothing else will change, but she can read, she can read, she’s back…the rain is pouring onto my thick-skinned skull. I think it’s snowing? It’s late November in Alaska; little flakes of frost brush against a cut up Nirvana blouse grasping a touch of sweet, pure, white. Cleansing her soul, making her new. The tears are so clogged up in that drain of hers’ that they may never come out until the leaks starts to drip. When those nervous fingers clench, and words begin to jumble, movements conflict this big mess of destruction. So lost. So confused. So naïve. Admiring you in embarrassment. You’ve created a monstrous destroyer, some foolish puppet doll under your control. I gave myself to you unwillingly. Just don’t let me down.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I make wishes on 3:11

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