[save me, save me]
don’t think i’m any good at this…
haven’t felt anything in so long.
no desires, no expectations…
fucking floating…
calm up here…
i still don’t sleep.


though this is all you'll ever get..
it would be a strange delight...
no eyes, no nose, no mind
the grey light of porto
stay with you
oh, how can you love
a tiny bug impressed
by the night
when you cut yourself?
save me, save me
your body rotten,
as the last melon on the vine...
"pull your shirt down"
save me, save me
press my thumb onto your tongue...
hand a knife up to me.
no mouth, no neck, no rest
the white poem of self hate stays with you...
even though you know
a chance to cut is still a chance to cure...
"pull your legs apart..."
save me, save me
your body doomed,
as the last apple on the tree...
so let me hurt you.
- posted by angela @ 10:42 PM