the taste of words lingers at the back
of my skull
with broken diplomacy and I'm drunk
on stories I wish were carved
in my own pen's
blood
"never expect anything" should be tattooed
onto my heart
with silver threads because,my God!,
I'm such a sucker for beauty
and no-win scenarios that so often
crawl
in my mind and in my hopes and in my
stomach
I'm a "rock star" when it's dark both
inside and outside
this world I feel rejected from because
of my own flawed conception
about how life should go
and dreams should become
and lies should be told
I'm done
with my own faults
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