Unoriginal Sin.

The hounds of hell are coming for you

after what you've done.

Broken hearts and bloody mouths 

aren't healed with malt and grain.

I heard you screaming out my name,
cursing all I wouldn't do.
I locked my doors, bolted my windows,
you broke through the wood.

You took my words, covered them with salt,

and fed them to the crowd.

You're not the first, won't be the last,

you're absolutely nothing in between.

Your belly is filled with your own mistakes,
though you spat them in my face.
Speed off now, down the southbound highway
with all your unoriginal sins.

Utilisé

J'aime finir mon lait de l'étage,
il renverse et s'étend,
la mendicité de moi de le laper en haut.

Je pour porter mes vêtements sales,
taché avec le vin,
la loyauté à ma peau propre.

Je suis plus heureux quand vous me parlez en bas,
la pression sur mes contusions,
le fait d'accrocher mes cuisses.

Je reste dans votre pièce ce soir,
vous dormirez dans moi,
Je me réveillerai le matin avec vous séché sur ma caisse.

2.

Dark haired,

shiny love.

Your lips fit mine,

our hips kiss.

Hold my hand

real tight now.
I'm the nine
before your ten.
We're beautiful,
just like this.

On The Edge Of A Knife.

There are piles of unwashed mistakes in everyones room,
bruises from the night before on all of our legs.
I know I have lost my balance before,
falling into someone else.

It's simple when you only see a number on my face,
ignoring the letters I hold in my mouth.
It would be easy to look at my dirty feet
and think you know where I have been.

Regrets have scrambled their way into my oesophagus,

unannounced, choking me.

Swirls of paper dance in my front yard,

messages and poems, questions without answers.

Candied confessions have littered my floor for years,
desperation fighting adoration in the form of flesh.
I only speak one language at a time,
but nothing is foreign to me anymore.

There are chips in the paint on everyones white walls,
scratches on the lenses of all our rose coloured glasses.
What was muttered still rings in my ears,
I'm the only one who knows I'm still innocent.

White Dress.

I'm all showered and clean,
ready for you to dirty me up.
I've fixed myself up so nice this time,
ready for you to break me.

I have such potential;
delicate ribs and a pretty smile.
You all cut my hands off at the wrists
putting me on a tether.

Take loneliness and my lips
and drown them deep inside you.
You're just like the other boys,
you drank too much of me.

Running.

Don't take more than I have,
I'll love you, hard, if you can just leave well enough alone.
Everyone can see where your hands have been,
what ever happened to whispering quietly?

I won't take what you want,
if there ever was a moment, you never quite owned it.
Hearts beating on an empty gallon drum
sound more like crunching gravel than sweet percussion.

I can feed someone else,
shut my mouth so tight and preserve my tongue.
You'll never really know what's in my head when i'm above you,
even when I'm completely occupying yours.

Don't hold on too tight,
you could squeeze my breath clean out of my lungs
and leave my chest completely empty.
It's hard enough to fill me up at the best of times.

Heavenly.

She makes herself come in the middle of the night.
All alone in the dark she can fuck herself so hard it would feel like 

he used to feel.

It's still self mutilation

when you're loved by a fucking animal.

So goddamn stupid,
there's only one good reason she should open her mouth,
and talking isn't it.

She always looked better with swollen lips.

It's so easy to make her cry out;

call her bitch

or a fat fucking whore and watch her melt in your hands.

She doesn't even bother to cover those ugly scars,

intoxicated by the look of her red raw romance.

Gentle has never had it's way with her.

Those boys come and play (anxious to make her feel beautiful),

fucking her from behind and

leaving their skin beneath her fingernails.

Exotic Bird.

She's alone again.

Her skin begins to itch and burn, she picks at scars until she bleeds.

She'll drink too much soon, just so she can get a fuck.

Saturation.

The nights seem heavier somehow.

I walk alone through this town,

barefooted and thin.

In the miles of midnight, 

I can feel you watching.

I slept through what you said to me.

There is a phantom weight 

within my chest now,

and it turns with impassivity.

I feel their eyes upon my back.

My mouth was sewn shut a lifetime ago.

Trying to hide my slaughtered innocence,

sliding through moonlit streets.

Bearing the weight of witness,

how my unfamiliar hips now ache.

I'm happier when I'm empty within.

365 Days.

I used to tell you lies
so beautiful,
we would both believe they were true.

You would take me out of the
dirty sink,
but I was nothing more than kitchen glass.