humiliatIon

it tasted sweet. his eyes so engulfed in my entirety that i believed the love we were making was wholesome. innocent. like a child does a watermelon on warm summer day he devoured my soul. sticky juices staining the flushed cheeks of a boy in need of validation. he bathes me in appreciation for the generations of alleles that have melted together to create the person i am. smothered in his aura, i find a home. i feel whole again.

he says that i deserve it.

i allow myself to change. i grow inside another while another grows inside me. i bite his tongue, i swallow my pride, i justify his anger. i force my rationality to forgive him. in fits of rage he rids our home of my presence. every time we make love he carves my secrets into my skin. humbled. i steady his hands. i have always believed that nobody can hate me more than i hate myself. my ideology is questioned as he tears into my flesh.

i think that i deserve it.

emptiness builds a home inside me. my mind is swallowed by humiliation for the person that i have become. whore. i refuse to recognize the girl who looks back at me. desperate. i just want to feel something besides this emptiness, i cannot stop myself from wanting to be free from this shell. obese. hot water dances across my flesh; your scent lingers. who the fuck wins? i dont want to be me anymore. i dont want to be me anymore. i dont want to be me anymore i

deserve it.

irratIonal

tar.
her burn is unimaginable. a sharp pain so gruesome that i wonder why i couldnt stop smiling. inviting. invigorating. intense. i feel at peace, knowing that i will die in her grasps. but again rationality acts like the jaws of life, freeing me from the crushing salvation of my own tomb. nevertheless, black tar sticks to my skin. wedged into delicate places and draped across the obvious canvas of my entirety. i cannot stand the feeling. i bathe in bleach. i bathe in vodka. i bathe in tears. i bathe in blood. but nothing can wash away the scars she left on my body.  i wish theyd stop staring at me.
creatures.
anxiety and hatred sit besides me while i wait for my name to be called. every time i lift the cigarette to my lips i bridge the gap between hypothetical and harmful. i think its better than a gun. but anxiety pulls a trigger of his own, leading my mind splattered into a frenzy of uncertainty. i ask him to leave. hatred follows me inside. closes the door behind us. exhausted. she tucks my hair behind my ears and holds my head still in front of the mirror. i watch as disgust drips from the corners of my eyes and runs down my cheeks, finally to puddle itself into a knot in my stomach. nothing can describe the sickness that overcomes me when i realize that i don’t want to be me anymore. i ask them to stay. im so tired of being alone. while the anesthesia rocks rationality to sleep, they whisper in my ears.
enough.
the fountains are running. water is pacing. splashing. racing. swirling around my head as i pick apart every interaction i had with him. i wonder what drove him from smothering my hands to smothering my soul. i wonder why i spend so much time alone. i wonder why i break myself to pick up the pieces of everyone elses broken heart, before i pick up my own. i wonder why everyone i trust to put me back together destroys me in the end. i wonder why i do this to myself. my rational aches. i toss my coin in after i  realize the simplicity of the situation. everything is my fault.
i envy the quarters opportunity to drowned in the fountain.