Vicious pretty things say
Bye-bye beautiful, but I
Don’t see why you couldn’t inspire
The lungs. My narcoleptic muse
Poses for a bit of you. Gives
Herself to the pieces of me
Littered brittle on the canvas
Of a damned white page stretched
Vulnerable on a bone-brown frame.
Settle down, don’t jump around like
You know it’s not a mask, why can’t you
Wear it like a face. The lies are
Faster than you or I. So
Rip it out, tie it tight; fuck it up
Why don’t you.
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