Tiny hands. I held him, cupped in my hands for a moment. My baby.
Pieces of flesh drop from me every day, a walking corpse. I have nothing, I am nothing. Every step a flash of pain.
Truth, lie, love, whore, cunt, metal heart shaped trunk box.
People circling me, rushing too fast.
I know I won't see you again. When I wake up covered in cold sweat, with your voice in my ear and my dead baby's cry weighting heavy on me, I can tell, you were never here.
I am hardcore. Underneath the blood there is so much filth, a fallen angel who came too close to the sun and had her wings burnt. An abandoned baby, I close my eyes. Open my eyes. Grab the knife, slish slash, get the scissors, start to cut, zig zig zig zag, blood comes out, covers me, my drug, my ally, black dirty blood, like my womb, my dry dead death womb. I choke on me, I walk these streets, fake smile white teeth, high heels as my move my hips to seduce, to play. While I fuck, salt in my lips, my eyes wide open fixed on the roof, on the wall, anywhere to stay away.
Morning blood, lips, cunt and ass. Bruises as a whole. I walk with my head up high, I've defeated them all. I've got what I want.
I am a little less me, but I never really liked myself that much.
I kneel and I start to scream. My nails dig in my flesh and I mutter my everyday crux.
I'll soon die, I'll soon no longer see another day.
i will soon cease to be.