bionicfemme

I said, God, give me an answer, or let me die.

and you said, Write.

Now.

God, there are so many voices that I have to scream above them all to drown out the cursing.

And each time I look at her, all I can think is that everything I believed in was a lie. A lie. I fell in love with someone who did not love me. Ever. A lie.

A hissing lie.
A sick, hissing lie
told to a sick, hissing girl
by a sick, hissing woman

And I am pregnant with sin and hate.
Abort the sin.
Abort the self.

Her truth burns like holy water splashed hot-cold against my eyelids;
I shield myself with newspapers from unfolding Hiroshimas
Time and time again.

It hurts to know that I will die like this.
That all doors are closed before I reach them,
that everyone is in love with their ex girlfriends and I can ironically never be an ex-girlfriend,

just a girlfriend who isnt worth loving.

I burn with wrath and I wish I could be so
beautiful and powerful,
that I could twist knives and get off
like chewing gum and walking.

I would have a reason, then,
to atone for the sins I never committed.

All the myths and legends are slipping away;

I think its sexual, sometimes,
to sit in front of a mirror and watch myself finger

Open bulletholes and wounds.