damage control.

i am stoned, and worthless. today i will fill my head with smoke and drown out all my common sense while you leave me here to invite her inside. this is damage control.

i am stuffed to the brim with absolution like a 15 pound turkey on thanksgiving. in a few hours i will fill my nose with more common slander and go shot-for-shot with the tallest kid in the room, but my eyes will be searching the floor plan of this apartment to find you. 'cause i'm wondering if i run off with this redhead girl, will you be there when i come back or will you be undressing her in the dark? my throne has been capsized, and here i am, seeping into the grout of this tile floor, i am a mess of hair and pills and from here you look like someone worth saving.

that mattress belongs to me; my intestine are the coils of springs, my brain matter is the stuffing, and the sheets stretch across it's perimeter like my skin. i will bury myself inside the plaster walls until i am ready to come out and let go.
"You are holding on because this is comfortable."
Yes.
But i will run every red light to get back home. this city, my hands. every night i fall asleep in a bed too big for one, and every waking morning the sheets bind my hands and feet, and when my ankles struggle to break out, i am gagged back and restrained by the pillow case and the dreamy color of your bedroom eyes, i must suffer in silence.
"TELL HIM"
i don't expect him to understand.
this morning i flew off the fucking handle and into the grime below. face first, all the clouds above me change to rain and then to shine, and my eyes can't handle the strain of all the cumulus clouds. i am hypnotized by how cheap this is, you can't love me and you won't turn around to face me. i am owed that bland honesty.
this time, i've gotta peel off all my tissue and blood from the closet door where it splattered, and i'll put it all back to together peace by peace. because when i fly solo, i fly so high.